


Welcome To Camp Wendigo

by sockiah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2012, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockiah/pseuds/sockiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A send up of cheesy summer camp movies, Dean and Sam have spent most of their childhood summers at Camp Wendigo, Bobby's summer camp for aspiring hunters and the children of hunters. Now nineteen, it's Dean's first year as a counselor, but he's not the only new staff member at the camp. Bobby's also hired on some fallen angels after the recently averted apocalypse. At first the angels seem to do nothing but get in the way of Dean's summer plans, and Dean doesn't get along. When kids from the camp across the lake start to go missing, can Camp Wendigo come together and save the day?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome To Camp Wendigo

Dean had been at the bus stop for at least a half hour. Sweat was beading across his forehead and soaking into the collar at the back of his neck. He could tell it was going to be hot and sticky and an all around miserable day to be stuck on a bus for three hours. Despite all Dean’s years at Camp Wendigo, he’d never actually ridden the camp bus before, but he’d been carefully informed that there was no air conditioner and that the children were _not_ allowed to have any knives on their person.

Knives and weapons would be returned when the children arrived to camp.

Bobby never really thought that he’d be spending much, if any, of his adult life with children. And then there were John’s boys. 

Then just as Dean was getting to the age where he was often unsupervised for long stints and becoming especially adept at getting himself into trouble—the kind of trouble only the children of hunters got into, little Sammy was making noises about wanting to attend some sort of Kindergarten soccer camp. So Bobby, being resourceful as he ever was, got an idea that would hopefully keep Dean alive for at least another year, and at the same time appease Sam’s wishes for summer camp. At age five, Sam would be the youngest ever to attend Bobby Singer’s Camp Wendigo for young hunters. Everyone else had to be at least eight.

As it turned out, the camp was a niche in the hunter world that needed filling. Sam and Dean weren’t the only children of hunters who needed something to do during the summer.

By now it was Dean’s ninth summer at Camp Wendigo. Bobby had finally made him a counselor after two years as a junior counselor. Usually he would’ve gotten the promotion after one year, given how long he’d attended the camp, and that eighteen year olds were supposed to be _counselors_ and not _junior_ counselors, but Bobby had some misgivings about Dean’s ability to be responsible for seven-plus eight year olds, or whatever the fuck. Rufus thought it was some bullshit too, and towards the end of last summer he, Dean, and Jo hatched a plan to blow up a bunch of shit behind the “arts  & crafts” shed… Which just so happened to be adjacent to the counselors’ lounge and storage area.

Long story short, Bobby wound up having to hire a bunch of new staff this summer. It was hilarious. Especially the part where Ellen realized that Jo was partially responsible for the whole mess. “Joanna Beth Harville! If you think you’ll be doing anything fun for the next six months, you are sorely mistaken!” Dean refrained from telling her how the majority of the plan had come from Jo’s brain in the first place, despite how much entertainment that would’ve been. He hoped Jo was grateful for his sacrifice.

Ellen was the nurse at Camp Wendigo, but easily the strictest adult on the premises. Probably because she was the one who had to deal with the consequences of everyone else’s irresponsibility, and patch up the injuries. She was also responsible for the no weapons on the bus rule.

Back when the camp was only a few years old, apparently some kid had cut himself open with his dad’s hunting knife when the bus went over a bump. Ellen hadn’t been present to give any first aid for another hour and fifteen minutes, until the bus arrived at camp. The kid had lost so much blood by then that they’d needed to take him to the hospital. Hence Dean’s current post, just around the block from the Greyhound station.

The first to arrive at the bus stop was Ronald Reznik, who was sixteen and had been attending the camp almost as long as Dean had. He was one of several non-hunter campers who were convinced the whole thing was a really intense role-playing experience. Dean wondered why Bobby allowed them, but he explained they did not receive a “hunter’s discount” and their money was basically what kept the camp open and operating.

Dean and Ronald chatted for a bit. “Dude, I love you man! No one’s even here yet and you’re already in character!”

Dean rolled his eyes and soon other campers began filtering in, lugging duffel bags up to his sunny patch of sidewalk. Dean has a worn-looking, canvas backpack for the kids to put their weapons in. He didn’t have to say anything to the veteran campers who already knew the drill. Gwen shot him a death glare before dropping at least four knives and a shotgun into the bag. “A gun, Gwen? Really?” Dean had no idea if this was a common occurrence or not, but it’s not like the camp wasn’t stocked with weapons anyway. Most of the kids just had knives that their parents wanted them to keep on them.

“Can’t ever be too careful,” she smirked. Then, as Dean was distracted by the sea-foam green bus pulling up, she elbowed him in the gut for good measure.

Dean kicked at her shin. “I’m a counselor now Gwen. Quit… violence. You can’t just hit people.”

“Very authoritative,” she said, and climbed aboard the bus, leaving Dean searching for a one liner when Ash showed up, claiming no items of interest for Dean’s bag of goodies. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either, clad only in a pair of dirty jeans cut off at the knees, and a trucker hat that looked too big for his mulleted head.

Some of the newbies looked like they thought they were in trouble for having anything until an older camper came along and reassured them they’d get their stuff back once they arrived. 

“Did you forget to mention that, Dean?” Ronald shouted out the window from the back of the bus.

“Shut it, Ronald! I never rode the bus before.” Which apparently wasn’t a solid defense in any way, as everyone howled with laughter. The back of Dean’s neck burned, but he kept a straight face, and looked the next camper down.

“Wait, you guys actually brought _weapons_ to this thing?” the kid asked. He was one of the smallest guys and said his name was Harry.

“You know what’s out there,” said the blonde girl behind him. She looked way too young to be there, but set an excellent looking, silver blade into the pack. “Mom had it specially made after my uncle disappeared. Not that it would do any good against 99% of the things I’ve come across.”

Dean nodded and watched her get on the sweltering bus with a swagger that was 100% faked. Except perhaps the glare she set on the bus driver.

Whoever the driver was, she was one of Bobby’s new hires and she was insanely gorgeous. Long red hair that she’d pulled off her neck into a bouncy ponytail, and a light pink tank top left pale shoulders glowing in the over bright sun. And her eyes were huge. Dean felt like he could drown in them.

“Hey Dean! I’m Anna. Everyone all aboard?”

Dean stopped staring at her for half a second and managed to check his list. “Uh yeah. Everyone checked off on my list. Yours?”

Anna looked at her clipboard to double check. “Yep, everyone’s accounted for. Now get on this bus, Winchester. It’s gonna be a long, miserable ride.”

Anna wasn’t wrong. Only a minimal breezed caught through the bus windows, and all the younger kids kept complaining they had to pee. When Anna eventually pulled over by a patch of trees, and pointed the boys to one bush and the girls to another, Dean was able to pick out the real hunters from the role players. Harry, Ed and Maggie were clearly here to play a game. “You people never heard of a rest stop?”

But Claire didn’t even hear them, as she’d already followed Krissy over to the girls’ side. Dean still couldn’t quite believe how young she was. There was no way she was eight, but whatever, he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Bobby had promised him that he could be in charge of the group of 12-14 year olds, which would place him hanging out with Sammy all summer. Which had never really happened before, their age difference getting in the way, and had always been the worst part of summer, if Dean was being honest with himself. By the end of camp he was always ready to go back to seeing so much of his brother that he was sick of his face.

The bus roared past a falling down sign that read Camp Wendigo, and Anna stopped the bus with a screech in the middle of the main field, in the middle of camp. Everyone ditched their belongings, unstuck their sweaty legs from the seats, and piled off the bus as quickly as possible. Half the kids ran for the mess hall, which had a hose attached to the side that they wanted to take a drink off of, while the other half ran in all directions, ready to explore new territory, or see what had changed since last year. 

Dean breathed deeply, basking in all the smells and sounds. It was strange, but three years out, and the ambiance still felt the same, even though he wasn’t here as a camper anymore. So many summers he’d sat in Bobby’s office, kicking the side of his desk impatiently while Bobby read up on some kind of monster. And then when the bus finally arrived, Dean would run out to meet them, running through the trees, and down to the lake. Kicking off socks and shoes and wading in with his clothes still on, then running back up barefoot and dripping along the other path.

Realistically, Dean could’ve spent the last whole day or so running through the camp, testing out any new equipment, without anyone else to bother him, but the energy and excitement of everyone exploring all at once was something special. Something Dean wanted to save and have with everyone else. So he waited. And every summer, he and Sam were just like every other kid in camp. They were just normal kids. The kids who didn’t hunt monsters were the weird ones.

Dean wanted to go down to the lake now, but they had to unload the bus. Two other counselors came over the help. A big, black guy who was way too over dressed for camp, and a smaller guy with spiked up hair. Dean didn’t pay them much mind; he’d have plenty of time to meet them later. He finished pulling everyone’s luggage off the bus, before heading over to the mess hall to get a drink from the hose himself. 

Twenty minutes later, and suddenly Dean was fully regretting the awesome explosions of last summer. Granted, he’d almost certainly still be a junior counselor if they hadn’t pulled that off, but then, Bobby wouldn’t have needed to hire the apparent bunch of weirdos Dean was now stuck spending summer with.

The spiky haired guy was carrying Dean’s duffle for him, headed in the wrong direction, and acting like a smug asshole, in Dean’s opinion. “No seriously, I can carry my own shit. In fact, _I_ even know what cabin it’s supposed to go to. I’m staying in the Crossroads Cabin, dude.”

“Sorry?” the guy tilted his head at Dean questioningly, but kept walking. He was wearing worn looking jeans, but a crisp looking t-shirt that had obviously never been worn before, which was notable because it was just super weird to see anyone around here owning something new other than a toothbrush. Even his sneakers only seemed to have a single layer of dirt on them.

“I’m in the Crossroads Cabin. That’s my little brother’s group. It’s the one closest to Bobby’s cabin.” Bobby preferred to keep the preteens close by, as they tended to stir up the most trouble.

The guy frowned and looked directly, unnervingly at Dean. Or possibly through him, he wasn’t quite sure. What the fuck was up with this guy? Bobby definitely needed to fire his ass.

“I’m afraid Bobby may have made an error? As I have been assigned duty at the Crossroads Cabin. Unless it is typical for two counselors to bunk there.”

Dean ground his teeth. “No. But like I said, my brother’s there. That’s where I’m staying.”

“I was asked to take Dean’s things to the Silver Cabin. You are Dean, yes? These are your things?”

“Who asked you? Because if it was Rufus or Jo, they were messing with you, man.” He was still looking at him in that weird, learning-every-inch-of-your-soul way, and it was pissing Dean off. Or freaking him out, Dean wasn’t totally sure, he just knew his heart was jackhammering away at his ribcage. He decided to focus on the pissed off, because he was trying to keep Dean from seeing Sam all summer and that was so not happening. Because if Dean had actual responsibilities to another group of campers, he couldn’t just fuck off and go talk to Sam like he could have as a camper. He’d have to stay with them. Teach them bow hunting and devil’s traps.

“The request was Bobby’s.”

“Fuck no!” Dean pushed past the asshole and stormed back up toward the main hall, where Bobby would be. This was such bullshit. Who the hell did this asshole think he even was? This fucking camp was practically set up for Dean’s benefit alone, and he’d be damned if this guy was going to fuck it up. He wouldn’t see Sam all summer at this rate and no… He wasn’t feeling tears prickling at his eyes. He clenched his jaw.

Spiky haired asshole followed Dean up the path, and damn he was quick on his feet. “Bobby said you would probably be distraught by this news. Unfortunately the reassignment was due to a camper’s conflict with me.”

Reassignment? Because this fuck had somehow _already_ pissed off one of the kids? How the hell was that even possible, the guy had been here for two minutes! Dean grabbed his duffle and tried to take it from the guy, whose name he still hadn’t gotten, nor did he even care to, but he wouldn’t let go.

“I was helping. It was my duty to take your things to your cabin,” he said.

“Fuck off, give me my stuff man.” Dude had a grip too, but damn if he didn’t knock it off—

Dean hauled off and punched him. Hard.

“Ow! Whatthefuck!” he held his throbbing fist in his hand, because spiky hair guy’s face was like hitting a brick wall. He was rubbing his jaw, and giving Dean these quizzical puppy dog eyes, like he wasn’t even bothered getting punched in the face, but like he was confused why Dean didn’t want help carrying his stuff. Probably he gets punched in the face all the time, Dean figured. And ow, son of a bitch. 

He shook his hand, shaking the pain out, and someone smacked Dean across the back of his head. “I see you managed to introduce yourself to Castiel quite accurately,” Bobby rolled his eyes.

“Bobby, this jerk is taking my bags halfway across camp and won’t listen to a word I say, like I don’t know what’s up around here,” Dean whined, sounding far too much like he was nine years old.

“Shut up. You don’t.”

“I don’t?” Dean made a smug face at Bobby.

“No, you don’t know what’s up around here. Because of you lot I had to look for new help around here, so I’ll be damned if you think you can tell me who needs to work where and doing what,” Bobby stared Dean down, making him feel more like a child than even his father ever could. “Castiel, you can continue to take Dean’s things to his cabin, thank you.”

Castiel nodded, wordlessly picking up Dean’s duffle and walking down the path, like he wasn’t super weird and like Dean hadn’t just punched him in the face. 

“And you,” Bobby turned to Dean, “go unpack your stuff and meet your campers. The little one’s Claire. She’s six and she’s seen more in her life than I’ve seen in mine, so don’t treat her like a baby if you wanna have any fun this summer.”

* * * *

It took until after seven pm, but eventually all the campers succumbed to the allure of food, and Bobby had them all in the same place. The kids were all sweaty with streaks of dirt on their cheeks. A couple of the younger boys had leaves stuck in their hair, indicating they’d spent the afternoon climbing trees. In Dean’s cabin only two of the campers had come in to sort out their stuff all afternoon. Most of them were accustomed to being stuck in dingy motel rooms, or maybe their parents had a studio apartment they used as a base between hunting trips. But however they lived, the chance to run around and be free with kids like them was never squandered. Even if it took upwards of an hour to corral everyone in for dinner, Bobby wouldn’t trade the freedoms Camp Wendigo allowed for anything.

Rufus had served some excuse for hamburger hotdish with elbow macaroni that was positively swimming in mushroom soup and too much butter. Dean mopped his up with several slices of white bread and asked Ben if he was going to finish his.

“Uh, yeah. Excuse me if I don’t just inhale my food,” he side-eyed Dean. It looked like horrible glop, but tasted amazing. Dean wasn’t quite sure if that was due to some sort of sense memory thing, or if it was actually delicious, but he didn’t really care.

“Whatever. Harry, Ed? You guys are new here… You gonna finish your food?” They’d sat and meticulously made up their bunks, arranging their outfits for the next eight weeks in the order of “most likely to attract spirits to least” for at least half the afternoon. They were going to be fun as hell to prank this summer; Dean knew that much for sure. He could already see Krissy eyeing them, formulating a plan to mess with them. 

Once everyone was settled with their food, Bobby went up to the front of the mess hall. “Hello new and returning campers,” he smiled. “Welcome to Camp Wendigo.”

The tables roared with cheers, and shouts of, “Hi Bobby!”

“Stuff it Bobby, we don’t need any rules this year!” someone yelled through all the applause.

“Ash, I’m beginning to wonder if you want a place here next summer or not,” Bobby shot back. “And yes, we do have some rules that you kids are to abide by, but first, because no matter what I do, some of you will still find ways to break them, I now have the pleasure of introducing our new staff for this summer.”

That was Dean’s cue to leave his table and be introduced formally as a counselor. He moved awkwardly to the front of the room and gave a small wave to the campers watching him, before his eyes darted to Bobby.

“This year Dean Winchester is in charge of the Silver cabin. Many of you are new to Camp Wendigo this year, but Dean isn’t… He’s been here since the start. If you have any questions at all, Dean is capable of helping with everything. Now, if you’re in the Silver cabin, it’s a bit of a hike through the woods from here, so until you’re used to the path, make sure you stay with Dean when out after dark.”

“We can leave after dark?” asked Harry, sounding bewildered.

“So long and you’re not an idjit who gets himself sprayed by a skunk, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass,” Bobby gave his patented “you’re wasting my time” face to the eight year old. His eyes widened and he sank down in his seat.

“Now for you older campers, I’m sure most of you have met our new friend in charge of the Devil’s Trap cabin, and our new bus driver, Anna. We have the pleasure of welcoming Anna to our camp after the rather interesting year many of your parent’s just lived through. She’s one of several fallen angels now walking on Earth, and one of three at our camp this year.”

“Yes, but I’m the only one with a drivers’ license,” she grinned, her teeth gleaming in the overhead lighting. “So don’t be asking Cas or Uriel to drive the bus. They’ll probably do it, but you won’t like it.”

“Thank you Anna,” Bobby sighed. “Which brings us to Castiel, who will be directing the kids in the Crossroads cabin to their daily activities, and Uriel who will be helping around the camp during the day, and bunking in the staff area. You’ll be most likely to find him on lifeguard duty. They are also angels who’ve joined our Camp Wendigo family after the recent apocalypse.” Bobby shot Dean a stern look, but then spoke as though he were addressing the entire camp. “Now I know we have a lot of new staff this year, so most of you probably feel like you know more about how this camp is run than they do, but you can shut it. They’re your counselors and your job is to listen to them. We don’t have many rules here, but that’s a rule. And please, don’t leave the camp premises. My wards and enchantments end at the edge of camp.”

“And they don’t protect against bears,” Dean added.

“Right. Don’t get eaten by a bear. Have a good summer everyone, and I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning!”

Dean went back to his table, gulped down the rest of his milk, slamming the hard plastic cup down on the worn wood of the table. “You kids ready to go unpack yet?” he asked.

Darkness was just edging in upon the tree line as Dean led the kids down the long path to the Silver cabin. He found a reason to be pissed all over again at his reassignment, and the thought of an imaginary sign that would’ve read something like, “If you lived in the Crossroads Cabin, you’d be home by now,” flashed across his mind. The mosquitoes were out in full force, and this was going to be one annoying walk all summer.

“Anyone need some insect repellent?” asked Krissy. “I left some up in the mess hall last year. It’s still here.”

And then some kids were truly their parent’s children, and were prepared for everything. Granted, it’d been years since Dean had stayed in this cabin. It’s not like he would’ve been prepared, but bless you Krissy.

Finally back at the cabin, the kids made up their beds. There was a boys’ room and a girls’ room, that each had their own bathroom areas. Then Dean had a bedroom separating the two, but with doors direct to each, so he could basically hear if there was anything that needed counseling going on. He didn’t have his own bathroom though, needing to share with the boys, and was expected to shower in the counselors’ facilities. 

All in all, it wasn’t a bad set up. And dude, the space he had as a counselor he hadn’t really thought about, but he had a dresser in here, and four walls that were his own. This was like the lap of luxury, let’s be honest. Now he was super annoyed Bobby wouldn’t let him be a counselor last year. C’mon, this is _nice._ Bobby was holding out on Dean, for what? A little irresponsibility? The camp was basically built on irresponsibility.

Which was why, as soon as the kids were settled, Dean grabbed a flashlight and tiptoed out, back up the path and toward the lake. He turned at the beach and rounded the lake until eyeing a disused beaver dam, then turned back into the woods about fifty paces.

Jo and Castiel were already there, a small campfire starting to kindle in front of Jo. She ducked her head down and blew lightly at the flame. “Hey Dean. Castiel brought the marshmallows, what did you bring?”

“My winning personality?”

“Ha ha,” said Jo. “Maybe you should go help him find some sticks.”

“Oh come on, Jo. It’s dark out.”

“Fine. You can roast a marshmallow on your foot, for all I care.”

Dean rolled his eyes and wondered if anyone else would show up. Anna would probably be awhile, since the older kids were usually the last to sleep. Castiel’s cabin was probably asleep, at least for tonight, but once they adjusted to camp schedule they’d be awake half the night and give Castiel a run for his money. Bobby was an idiot in reassigning them. No way some new to humanity fallen angel was ever going to tame a group of middle schoolers. They would gut him.

Dean wandered off in the direction Jo had gestured in search of Castiel, pushing branches out of his path as he went. He hadn’t gotten far. “Hey man, you finding roasting sticks?”

“Jo says they should be at least a couple feet long, and about the width of my index finger.”

“Yeah. Or the width of Jo’s index finger. Anywhere in that ballpark is good. We’ve all got knives anyway, and can carve it down a bit at the end if need be.”

“You all seem very adept at this,” Castiel said, sounding far more unsure of himself than he did when Dean was punching himself in the face. It was sort of… Well Dean liked looking out for people. It was far more agreeable than when he was trying to keep him from Sam. He had to remind himself that he hated the guy. What a jerk.

“Yeah, well we’ve all been doing this since we could walk, so a bit of an unfair advantage.”

“I have been alive since before the first creatures ever walked the Earth.”

“Okay. Well when Bobby pulls a pop quiz on pre-Cambrian science, you’re so letting me cheat off you.” Dean nudged Castiel with his elbow and shined his flashlight on a pile of brambles. “There’s a promising sight. Looks like a tree feel a couple weeks ago. I’ll cut some branches. You—“ he pointed rather bossily at the angel’s chest, “get to carry them all back. And pull the leaves off.”

“Nine days ago.”

“What?”

“That’s when the tree fell. It was a younger maple, eleven years old, and it fell nine days ago. It was doomed, however, from its fourth year, when a buck rutted its antlers against the trunk too forcefully.”

“Wonderful,” Dean rolled his eyes and scanned the woods for poison ivy, before butting his way through the underbrush with his flashlight.

Ten minutes later and Dean was leading Castiel back through the trees. The angel carried a pile of sticks with various leaves and twigs poking him in the face, as he tried to duck under limbs and branches. Dean led the way, and Jo had gotten the fire up and roaring, the flames hot on Dean’s face, leaving his back cold by comparison. Which then Castiel walked smack into.

“Oof. Sorry Dean,” he said rather sheepishly. “It was difficult to see around these branches. Where shall I put them?”

“Set ‘em by me,” Jo smiled, and Dean saw that clearly Jo and Castiel had gotten to know each other a little bit before his arrival. Jo doesn’t just talk to people in that open friendly way unless she knows them. The angel followed her direction easily, sat down, and the two of them began removing leaves and extra twigs. Dean didn’t want to just sit around with his junk in his hands, watching his friend and her weirdo buddy of the last couple days be productive, so he sat on the other side of Castiel and joined in the work.

“When’s Rufus showing up?” Dean asked. “And why don’t we have any beers open yet? We’re hunters, come on.”

Castiel kept his head bent, focused on his work, and Jo answered, “Probably in like a half hour. He said he’d be here before I even showed up, so… You know Rufus.” She got up and started digging around behind an old tree stump where she must’ve stashed a cooler earlier.

“Yeah. Cool. Did you invite the rest of the new guys, or just this schmuck?”

“Anna’s coming, but you know her cabin,” Jo tossed Dean a can of cheap beer that had probably expired a year ago. “If she can get out of there without Ash following her it’ll be a miracle. We didn’t tell Uriel. He’s kind of a stick in the mud. Figured he’d complain to Bobby.”

“Bobby knows we’re out here.” Dean downed half the can in one go and glanced back at Castiel. The angel appeared in deep concentration and hadn’t looked up.

Jo sat back down, nursing a beer of her own. “Yeah, but he pretends like he doesn’t. He might have to take a different approach without plausible deniability on his hands.”

“Like most parents are really expecting stellar supervision at this camp. Both me and Rufus’ names are on the website. And the weird brochure he’s got at the salvage yard.”

Jo laughed, and Dean noticed the angel watching her appreciatively. He couldn’t tell though, whether he had a thing for Jo, or if he just really liked it when people were laughing. Apparently it’s really difficult to read angels and figure out their motivations.

Dean got up and stocked the fire with more wood, then took a larger stick and continued poking at it aimlessly. “So what was your best hunt this year?”

“You must be joking. With all that was going on, you really thing my mother let me leave the house? It was horrible!”

“If you expect me to believe you didn’t sneak out and do something stupid at least once, then you must think I’m an idiot.”

Jo looked at him meaningfully, but resigned herself. “I chased a spirit haunting a bus halfway across the state before Mom caught up with me and hauled my ass back home. It was… Uneventful.”

“Sounds a little embarrassing,” Dean said, finishing his beer and going for another. He so wasn’t going to sit through the pleasantries of hunter-shop-talk while sober. It wouldn’t be right. Besides seriously, if this Castiel guy was going to keep silently staring at him, he was going to need to be at least tipsy, if not entirely wasted.

“Her lock down was worse than usual, Dean. I’m so fucking glad to be here, you don’t even know.”

“Tell me about it. Or, don’t. Actually. Where the hell is Rufus; there has got to be some better beer in this world.” 

It was nearly a half hour, and several burned marshmallows later before the rest of the party showed up. When Anna arrived, Ash was leading the way there. A few minutes later, Rufus snuck in from the other direction. “Thank god,” said Dean, when Rufus showed up with bottle of whisky tucked under his arm. “I need a drink; you have no idea.”

Castiel eyed him curiously. “You’re already fairly intoxicated.”

Dean smirked in his direction.

“You think I brought this for you? Ah no. This… This is the good shit,” he said, then pulled held up a paper bag with three six packs inside. “Here. This stuff is the crap I bought for you bunch of freeloaders.”

“I gave you the money,” Jo said incredulously. 

“Uh huh. And this is what I bought you with it. Now, what is the drama this summer? You kids have fun during the apocalypse?”

“No,” said Castiel very seriously. “It was not fun.”

“Heh, I forgot. You better have a drink of something a bit better,” said Rufus, and actually poured the angel a shot of his own Johnny Walker Blue while everyone else looked on amazed.

“What? He was on our side. That’s why he’s stuck here with all you bums, taking a summer camp gig from Bobby like it’s a handout, consolation prize. Whoo hoo, you saved the Earth. Then you get kicked out of Heaven for good and wind up with these assholes. Here,” he poured Castiel another shot. “I don’t share this stuff often, so drink up.”

“So, what did happen with the apocalypse thing anyway?” Dean wondered. “I mean, I know I got tossed an extra amount of the typical monsters in the meantime, but Dad kept me and Sammy in the dark.”

“He kept you out of it for good reason, Dean. This is one instance where you shouldn’t be bad mouthing your daddy.”

“I wasn’t!” Dean slurred defensively. “’M just curious.”

“It was Lucifer,” Ash said, gunning down one of the old beers from the cooler. Despite the fact that he was only sixteen, Ash’s particular skill set opened doors that Dean and Jo were routinely locked out of. “Tracked him across the country, but he was slippery. Never got closer than three steps behind him. And you,” he pointed at Dean, “Were a person of interest on the angels’ radar. Rufus won’t tell you that, but it’s done now so what’s the use in keeping it a secret?”

“Me?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, his eyes shining at Dean. “You were a back up plan of sorts. At back up plan to a back up plan. I expect if it had come to it, the angels would’ve gone after your father first.”

Dean stared back at Castiel. The shadows of the fire flickered across his features, revealing the tiredness behind them. But he looked pleased to be where he was now, for whatever reason. 

“Wait a minute, I thought the angels were supposed to be good guys,” said Dean.

“Yeah, we did too,” Ash chuckled, popping open his second beer. “Turns out they’re the ones who jumpstarted this whole thing. Or probably anyway. They were all for it.”

This subject matter was a little bleak for a first night of camp bon fire, Dean thought, missing shenanagains of years past. Where was the part where Jo took her shirt off and they all ran through the woods with sparklers taped to their hips? 

“The demon Azazel technically started it,” deadpanned Castiel. “The apocalypse. But if you told me Zachariah had planted the idea in his head, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised.”

“Wow. Well this is some cheerful subject matter,” Jo interjected. “Not that I’m not curious, but do we want to spend the whole evening moping?”

Rufus shrugged. “Welcome to hunter’s summer camp.”

Jo tossed another beer in Dean’s direction. “I think Dean and Castiel should have a drinking contest. They already got in a fight today.”

“Puh!” Dean laughed. A drinking contest with an _angel_? He’d probably never had a drop in his life! Dean would drink him under the table. “I’m game.”

Jo and Anna smiled at each other and looked like they were restraining laughter. Which, a smarter Dean would have seen as a bad sign, but the Dean who wanted to fuck with Castiel and get him really stupid drunk didn’t notice.

Castiel carefully pulled open the tab on his beer, and Dean smirked because the idiot had already had two shots of whiskey while Dean had only had… Well three beers. But who’s counting? He opened his beer and gunned back about half of it. “Your move, angel,” Dean waggled his eyebrows in Castiel’s direction.

Castiel took his time drinking, a calm look on his face like he was just enjoying the moment. It wasn’t until Dean had gotten a bit more alcohol in his system and was feeling pretty lose that he realized he hadn’t really stopped staring at the angel’s face since the drinking contest began.

Not that that seemed to register with Castiel, who continued his calm consumption of beer, and never seemed to get any drunker. “Man Cas,” Dean nudged him with his shoulder, which threw too much weight behind it in his drunken state, and the two of them nearly toppled off the log. Castiel caught him and forced him upright. “You can really hold your booze. For an angel.”

“Yes Dean. In fact, I believe you’re behind. You owe me another drink.”

* * * *

Daily Itinerary: Silver Cabin (Week 1-4)

7:00 AM- Breakfast

7:30- Return to cabins to brush teeth, finish any daily organizing you failed to complete prior to breakfast. (It is mandatory that all campers complete personal hygiene tasks!)

8:00-9:00- Target range (Jo Harville & Dean Winchester instructing)

9:15-10:15- Arts & Crafts (Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester instructing)

10:30- Snack break

10:45-11:45- Library (Dean Winchester instructing)

12:00- Lunch

1:00- Free Choice. 

Dean awoke the next morning with a pounding hangover and with Krissy splashing water on his face. “Wake up, Dean. It’s already seven-oh-two! The other kids left for breakfast!”

“Urgh, okay. ‘Mwake,” Dean mumbled into his pillow.

“Yeah, but all the bacon’s gonna be all gone.”

“Go up and get some bacon. If there’s any left. I’ll be up in a minute.”

_Shit, shit, shit,_ Dean thought, as he watched Krissy scamper out the door. Bobby was gonna cuss him out but good, him sleeping in on his first day of adult responsibility. How _this_ was why he didn’t want to hire him as a full time counselor, and now Dean was just proving him right, and what was he gonna do with him all summer long? Like it wasn’t bad enough to miss out on bacon. At this rate, breakfast already started and a good seven minute walk up to the mess hall, Dean would be stuck with nothing but cold cereal and maybe the dregs of some toast, if he was lucky. Not really a stellar meal to nurse his hangover.

After breakfast, Dean munched on the last of his toast as he walked with the kids back to their cabin. Just like the night before, Castiel’s group with Sammy were all already back at their bunks, and it was another reason to continue being really pissy with this entire situation, not even counting how stupidly unfair it was that the angel didn’t seem to be feeling any ill-effects from the massive amounts of alcohol he ingested. Asshole.

Dean could picture him sitting there all serenely, quietly sipping a beer while he peered at Dean through the darkness. He still had that same expression on his face and hit was making Dean seethe with hungover irritation.

On the plus side, the younger kids were probably the most fun to look after in the entire camp, whereas Castiel’s group were probably going to earn the title of smelliest and most obnoxious in no time.

“So we’ve got the target range up first, guys. I was thinking we’d start with knife throwing for the first week, what do you guys think?”

“Do we get to use our own knives?” asked Ben.

“Yeah, obviously. But by the end of the week I want you to have tried everything we have available. The whole point is you gain proficiency with a variety of weapons.”

Ed and Harry, meanwhile, seemed rather predictably freaked out at the prospect. “Real knives? I don’t think my mom would let me use a real knife.”

“Yeah,” Krissy slung an arm over Ed’s shoulders, “But your mom isn’t here. Besides, there’s a reason Ellen’s office is right next to the target range.”

“You guys’ll be awesome,” Ben grinned his patented reassuring smile. He never held back for anyone. Dean really did like these kids, when it came right down to it. They weren’t Sammy, but it was impossible not to become fond of them.

Mornings at camp were always jam packed with activities and lessons, living up to the advertised focus of the camp—becoming a better hunter. It was exhausting for the first week or so, until everyone got used to the routine. By the time snack break rolled around, Dean was already feeling wiped. And not just for the fact that the younger campers struggled so much with “arts & crafts,” which was really just a cute way of saying they practiced drawing runes and sigils, and carving sticks into points sharp enough to easily kill something. Basically any of the hands-on prep of tools that needed to be done before a hunt got practiced at arts & crafts. 

“These wards themselves aren’t good for anything,” Bobby explained, passing out chalk and black construction paper. “The spells that go with these wards are very complicated, and without them what you’ve created is nothing but a strange design. However, as magical symbols go, these are fairly easy to master, and let’s start simple and work our way to more complicated things.” He flashed a picture in a textbook of an elaborate and powerful devil’s trap.

Today the kids would be drawing sigils that would ordinarily be used as wards on hex boxes. Dean put up the pictures for them to copy on an overhead, and in a display of first day excitement, everyone got right to work. And got right to being frustrated. Even Ben and Krissy, who had plenty of experience with this stuff, were desperately out of practice and found the task difficult.

“Come on you guys, I can’t find many sigils easier to draw than this.”

“Can’t we use markers?”

“You gonna use markers on a hex box? Or what if all you’ve got to work with is dirt? Or blood? You have to make due with what you’ve got, kid. Crayola’s not gonna come save your ass when the demons are calling.”

“Nice pep talk, Bobby,” Dean smirked. “Don’t concentrate so hard. Trust yourself. You’re pushing too hard on the chalk because you’re nervous, that’s why it keeps flaking that way and doesn’t look right.”

Somehow Dean’s motivation was even less successful than Bobby’s, and by ten o’clock the group was ready to call it quits. “Go run around for fifteen minutes!” Bobby yelled after dismissing everyone. “Don’t try to get snacks; they won’t be put out yet!”

“Please tell me we’re having actual snack foods, Bobby. Cookies and candy bars. And pie. Those are snacks, not the apples and carrot sticks crap you fed us last year.”

“I’m a legitimate care-taker, Dean. I need to make sure you kids don’t just eat garbage all summer.”

Dean tossed his head back and groaned.

“Nobody’s eating anything I wouldn’t eat myself. But if you think that means I’m not going to nourish you kids, you’re a bigger idjit than I gave you credit for. And today we’re having yogurt with fruit and granola, but I didn’t chose it.”

* * * *

While mornings at camp were straight to business, the afternoons were an extended playtime. 

_Free Choice Activities Guidelines_

_All campers are recommended to participate in at least three different camp related activities during their time at Camp Wendigo. Campers may switch activities at any time during the afternoon, or may stay with the same activity the whole day. Campers, your time is your own._

-Target range. Get in some more practice at the target range, with a variety of weapons available. Non-senior level campers must have a counselor or junior counselor present to supervise this activity.

-Swimming. We always have a lifeguard on duty, whether you see them or not. Watch out! Remember to use a buddy system while swimming.

-Hiking. Get to know the woods well before the Wendigo hunt at the end of the summer! On Tuesdays there will be scavenger hunt items placed in the woods for you to find; the item list is available in the game room.

-Practice research. Information on past caes are available in the library. Follow the clues the same way another hunter once did—all the clues are at your fingertips in the library. Test your skills putting them together.

_Not everything is about hunting monsters. We’re here to hone our skills, but that’s not all there is to being a great hunter, or the sort of person that anyone would want to know._

-Canoeing, boating, or water skiing. Non-senior level campers must have a counselor or junior counselor present to supervise and run this activity. Life jackets required. Must be age 16 or older to operate the boat.

-Sports activities. Civilian sports equipment is available in the spare shed. Throw together a game with fellow campers.

-Game room. Board games, cards, foosball, puzzles, and movies are available in the game room. It’s a game room; play some games.

* * * *

For the first day of afternoon activities, every kid in the Silver Cabin wanted to go swimming. Of course they did. They were like eight years old and the lake had been calling them since the moment they arrived. 

“Headed to the lake?” asked Anna, after Dean had sent the kids off to change into swimsuits.

“Clearly. I’m guessing the older lot are slightly less inclined to swim for six hours.”

“Yeah. The water itself loses its appeal when you get jaded with old age. I think they’re gonna watch a movie. Except Ronald, whose actually doing that thing in the library.”

“Did I miss a memo? Is it supposed to rain? I’m sorry, but your cabin is boring as balls, Anna.”

“How’s the hangover?”

“Gone, finally. 

Anna snickered. “Okay, Dean. I’m gonna go make myself available to supervise campers. You have fun with Uriel.”

Right. Uriel. The guy he hadn’t really met. But if everyone found Castiel to be agreeable and _Uriel_ to be the asshole… This might be an interesting afternoon.

* * * *

Dean’s feet smacked loudly on the dock, his weight rocking the whole structure back and forth. “Everyone out here have a buddy?” he asked. He figured he’d be responsible. He unfolded an old lawn chair and sat down, popping open a bottle of sunscreen.

“Claire! Ben! And all the rest of you… Get your asses up here and get some sunscreen. Most of you are whiter than vanilla and you’re gonna burn in about five seconds.”

Predictably no one listened to him, and Dean rubbed in the last of the smudges of sunscreen into his nose. “Whatever, I tried. You’ll all tell Bobby I warned you and it’s your fault you didn’t listen, right?”

“What was that?” one of the older girls, Maggie, if Dean remembered right, started freaking out. Her eyes were huge. “Something just rubbed against my leg!”

“I felt it too!” yelled Andy, and stuck his face under the water, almost certainly keeping his eyes open, looking for “the lake monster.” It was a favorite game at Camp Wendigo. Everyone knew that the lifeguard duty was really the job of playing the lake monster. Once the lake monster attacked, the kids had to do whatever they could to swim safely to shore, or “kill” the monster by ripping the lifeguard’s snorkel off… Not that the task was easy. It was tied onto his face more thoroughly than usual.

Of course, everyone knew that, except probably the new kids. I mean, it was hinted at on the signs by the lake, listing the rules for swimming, and in the information given for afternoon activities, but Dean doubted anyone had said anything to them directly.

Why would they? People thinking they were getting attacked by a legit lake monster, when it was really just Uriel in a snorkel mask was hilarious. And extra awesome since the guy was clearly using some of his lingering angel mojo, and not coming up for air. Damn, even the kids who knew about this game might start to get freaked out after awhile. Dean put his hands behind his head and leaned back to watch the show.

“It touched my feet!” Maggie yelled, and started kicking and splashing, paddling her way toward the shore. “There’s something in the water!” She was never going to make it to shore, Dean thought, and looked around at the other kids.

Ed was freaking out. “That’s my sister! Maggie, swim! You guys, do something!”

Ben swam toward the dock and was assessing the situation, a slight smirk on his face, while Andy was still sticking his head under the water, trying to find Uriel in the water. Then Maggie was yanked backward, like something right out of jaws. She screamed, and was yanked again all the way under with a small splash.

Claire, who had been silent the entire time, but couldn’t be one hundred percent certain this was a game, dove for the spot where Maggie had disappeared. Andy followed suit, his face laughing. Andy was ridiculous and he loved this game. He loved swimming, and was braver in the water than he was anywhere else. He was definitely going after the snorkel.

A few seconds later, Maggie’s head popped up about ten feet away from where she’d gone under. Uriel had let her go. No one actually drowned in this game. “It… It grabbed me!” she gasped. “SWIM! GET OUT OF THE WATER!”

Harry was already standing on the beach, arms wrapped around himself. “Swim back! Swim!”

“What is it?” yelled Ed. “What is it? Dean!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You guys are fine. Look, Ben and Andy are dealing with it. Where’d Claire go?”

Claire was swimming out to Maggie, when her head disappeared again. Claire dove in behind her.

Andy turned to Ben. “I can’t figure out where he is. He has to come up for air eventually!”

“No he doesn’t. He’s an angel, remember. They probably don’t need to breathe.”

“IT TOUCHED MY LEG! I’M GOING TO DIE,” Ed yelled. “IT TOUCHED MY—“ And then Ed was dragged under the water as well.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Castiel shouted from the shore. He and Ash were carrying several canoe paddles, but Castiel dropped his. “The children are in need of assistance!” Castiel dropped his paddles, then ran in towards all the mayhem. Ash sniggered, and dropped his armload as well before walking out to Dean on the dock.

Claire’s head popped up again, and she had Maggie in tow. Both of them were fine. “Looks like your boy doesn’t know about the lake monster game,” Ash laughed, bumping Dean on the shoulder.

“Who?”

“Castiel. Hilarious.”

“He’s not ‘my boy’,” Dean scoffed. But Castiel came back up, looking very heroic with Ed flailing in his arms. “I mean look at him. Ridiculous.”

“Uh huh,” said Ash.

Uriel stood up in waist deep water, and pulled the goggles and snorkel off his face. “What are you doing Castiel? The children are meant to learn to save themselves.”

“What?” Castiel dropped Ed back into the lake, where he sputtered and splashed around like he’d forgotten how to swim. Castiel looked almost adorable, with a baffled look on his face.

Dean laughed so hard he nearly choked, but eventually rolled his eyes and explained the situation to Castiel.

“This seems wildly irresponsible. I’m not sure that most summer camps operate this way.”

“Yeah, well. No one’s died yet,” Dean waved at Uriel. “Nice work.”

“For a cheater!” yelled Andy. “I almost had him!”

“And thus ends the most hilarious misunderstanding possible at camp. A little lackluster guys. Next year I’m gonna need you to milk the situation for all it’s worth when the newbies first get in the water.”

* * * *

Over the next couple days, everyone in camp seemed to want to canoe. Bobby put Dean and Castiel both in charge of taking the kids out. Only Castiel had only gotten one of the canoes ready yesterday, and he’d done a pretty terrible job of it. Also he’d apparently fallen out of it (which Dean would’ve paid anything to see), so the thing was full of muddy water and was upside down in the grass on the edge of the lake.

“I’m not sure I like canoeing,” Castiel crinkled his nose. “Are we certain Bobby would like me to instruct in this area? Perhaps I could be reassigned.”

“Not likely. Bobby likes _everyone_ to get better at stuff, including the counselors. Get over here and help me get this bitch down.”

They were in the largest supply shed, which was really an old barn that had been converted to hold several canoes and kayaks, as well as a couple four-wheeler all terrain vehicles, and all the swimming and water skiing supplies. There were also several racks of weapons and gasoline. This was a camp for aspiring hunters after all, and the whole place was basically geared so you could never forget it. Even if you spent your whole afternoon water skiing and doing puzzles, your wipeout would be graded on a scale from a standard spirit salt and burn, to a vampire beheading with a chainsaw. And all of the puzzles looked like Bobby had lifted them from a haunted house somewhere.

Castiel came up behind Dean and grabbed the falling end of the canoe before it crashed down from the rafters. Dean could feel his eyes on the back of his neck, and he _absolutely did not_ shiver at the thought of the angel standing so close to him and looking at him.

So they had maybe had a bit of a stare-off at the campfire the other night, but that was only because Cas irritated him so fucking much. But it also meant he knew just exactly how intense those eyes were watching him right now.

Together they lowered the canoe down to the floor, and moved on to the next one. “How many do you think we’ll need?” Castiel asked, and fuck if he wasn’t standing like, right next to Dean. His chin was practically brushing against his shoulder as he talked; the dude did not understand personal space at all. And Dean could fucking _smell_ him.

“Uh…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, practically elbowing Castiel in the face in the process. Serves him right, if he’s going to stand that close to people. He wanted to tell him to back off, but for some reason he also didn’t. “Probably like four or five? Depends if we put two kids in a boat or three.”

“And we are absolutely certain that I cannot simply watch.”

Dean looked at him, and he wasn’t sure, because Castiel was really weird, but he thought he saw genuine worry on his face. Like, worry for his own personal safety, which couldn’t be something that a creature used to being immortal was used to feeling. He figured he should be reassuring, even if Castiel had fucked up Dean’s entire summer. He did fall out of a canoe yesterday, and into the really mucky and kind of creepy part of the lake, full of turtles and creepy underwater shadows as the muck swirled around, and who knows what else hiding in the weeds.

It was hilarious, but Dean wasn’t _that_ much of a dick. Not quite.

“You’ll be fine,” Dean patted him on the shoulder. “The worst that could possibly happen to you already did, and here you are, man.”

“Yes. Here I am,” Castiel agreed. “I am quite grateful that fate has led me here, after all that has occurred. There are many more undesirable places.”

Dean was pretty sure at this point, that Castiel was talking about something bigger than just tipping into the lake yesterday. “Uh. Okay. Well, good, I guess.”

“I mean to say, that very few angels chose to rebel from Heaven. Most of us didn’t have the choice. It’s very difficult to understand what choice is, Dean.” His voice was becoming more gravely as he spoke, lending more power to his words. Like just thinking about his time fighting as an angel was bringing out his more angelic traits. “I’m still not quite certain I can fathom all of the choices allotted to us with free will. It’s… Overwhelming.”

Dean just stared at him, and the angel, that fucker, stared right back. It was like Dean’s eyes were captured. But it’d be rude to look away when the guy was baring his soul or whatever. And they still had two more canoes to lift down, but Dean stayed rooted to the spot, not quite knowing what would be the best thing to do in this situation. He figured hearing the guy out was best though.

“Those of us who did rebel; most died. So I’m very lucky to be here, Dean. And I’m even luckier that I am amongst hunters who know of the apocalypse and what happened. It is much more relatable.”

“Do you regret it? Rebelling from Heaven, I mean. That seems like kind of a big deal.”

“Never. Once I began to doubt, there wasn’t a better path. It was a choice, but it was in many ways the only choice. If I was true to myself, which was also something angels aren’t used to understanding.”

“Hmm. Well, we should probably get these canoes and paddles out—“

“There is no way to escape the guilt though, you are right. I have regrets. When I fell and started on the path to becoming human, my vessel’s soul was sent away. Without my grace holding it together, the body can’t contain us both.”

“So, that’s a vessel you’re possessing?” Dean looked incredulous. Castiel looked like a human guy, so it wasn’t a large leap to make that he wasn’t in his true form. He was a lean guy, but still strong looking, probably about twenty-two or twenty-three years old.

“Yes. He actually prayed for it. But I don’t think he expected the full consequences of it.”

“So he’s dead.”

“Yes. He was Claire’s uncle. He’s dead.”

Dean gulped. There was a huge amount of sadness behind Cas’ eyes, he could see that now. And okay, it was a pretty big deal why he and Castiel had to switch cabins.

“I see how she looks at me, so I can’t forget the pain I’ve caused in the world.”

“But you saved the world a greater pain. More suffering, right? I mean, I didn’t… I didn’t help with the apocalypse stuff, but from what it all sounds like…”

The door to the barn slammed open and Sam stood there, framed in the sunlight from outside. Dean could only recognize him by his silhouette. “What’s the hold up? Are we gonna even make it across the lake today?”

Dean smiled and waved Sammy over. “Yeah, c’mon and help us get the canoes down.”

Sam rolled his eyes, because it was obvious he wouldn’t be able to reach, but he bounced over anyway, and started pulling out the paddles. Castiel pulled Dean by the arm, so he would stop looking at his brother, and could continue in their task.

Twenty minutes later they were all out on the water. Claire and Sammy were in Dean’s boat. Ben and Andy got stuck with Cas, and they were extremely vocal over their concerns the angel would flip them.

“Hey look, Castiel! A duck!” shouted Sam, trying to get him to turn to quickly.

Castiel looked to Dean. “Just ignore them,” he mouthed silently, and Castiel did. So when they all got back to shore, and Castiel was still dry and unharmed, Jake and Krissy had to race back ahead of everyone, then wade out and dump his boat.

Castiel coughed and sputtered, lake muck running down his face from where it matted down his hair. Everyone was laughing, and Dean was wheezing so hard he didn’t think he’d ever breathe again, but he felt a little guilty while Cas was looking so much like a kicked puppy. He tried to be game though, and faked a laugh. Castiel was really bad at pretending to laugh, as it turned out.

* * * *

Now that Dean knew a little about Castiel, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. Several times throughout the week he thought, what must’ve it been like to be an angel? Dean had never in his life believed in angels, but then he’d heard rumors about them all throughout the past year. Of course, he was “a kid” so no one would tell him anything. Bullshit.

According to Cas he’d been a back up plan in jumpstarting the apocalypse, however that worked. At least the angel was honest with him, even if he spoke in a way that Dean didn’t entirely understand everything he said. He wouldn’t be able to understand everything. Castiel probably understood things no human ever would, from the mysteries of quantum physics, to all that was contained in the vastness of the universe’s stars.

And for some reason he’d sacrificed all that, and all that power, to live amongst humans and work at the world’s most niche market for a summer camp. Stuck getting drunk with Dean and Jo and Rufus, letting the alcohol nurse away his guilt for something he shouldn’t even feel guilty about. His vessel, whoever he was, would’ve died anyway. And so would’ve Claire too.

Well, probably. Claire was marginally terrifying. She kept eyeing him from across the dinner table like she knew what he was thinking about.

“Yes? What?”

“You’re not eating your macaroni.”

“Yes I am,” Dean grumbled, and took a bite.

“With gusto, Dean! This isn’t fat camp! What happened to going for seconds?”

Dean rolled his eyes and told Claire to finish her damn carrot sticks. He was allowed to drift off in thought occasionally. It wasn’t common, certainly not around food, but Claire doesn’t know his life story.

It was Friday, so there was an extra buzz of excitement around camp, with everyone looking forward to the weekend schedule. Morning was still more down to business on the weekend, but everyone got to sleep in. There was also less time spent in the library, and much more opportunity for choice. That’s what had the campers excited anyway. The counselors were mostly excited because Friday nights were always nights where they got away, enjoying drinking and campfires. Occasionally Rufus brought them to town, but not often.

Dean arrived last to the circle of trees, so the fire was already roaring and the girls were roasting some kind of thing covered in aluminum foil. “Roasted chicken and veggies,” Anna explained. “My family used to cook like this when we went camping.”

Dean nodded and sat down next to Castiel, and then realized that he’d just sat down next to Castiel. It was so automatic, he hadn’t even thought about it. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. Somehow. He looked around, hoping no one had noticed, but Ash caught his eye and mouthed, “Your boy,” with an evil little smirk.

Castiel, bless him, didn’t notice anything strange or uneasy, and immediately began talking to Dean about his growing confidence with the canoe, and how he was enjoying the human process of learning. The way it differed from how he’d learned as an angel. It was kind of boring.

Dean wound up telling him about how he’d become a hunter in the first place. How his mother died, and his father’s revenge, and growing up with Sammy. How this whole summer camp started, and how it was the best times of his life at this camp, except for how he was always glad for it to be done, because he missed his brother a whole lot by the end of it.

“I’m sorry for messing up your cabin arrangement. I knew it was upsetting you from the start, but—“

Dean waved his hand. “There wasn’t anything you could do about it.”

“You’re still angry.”

“Maybe a little,” Dean shrugged. Castiel tilted his head as he continued looking at Dean, like he was trying to inspect Dean’s every motivation.

“You can’t like, read minds, right?”

“Not so much anymore.”

“Well, good,” said Dean. He realized, suddenly that a lot of time had passed. The fire was half its size, Ash and Jo were thoroughly drunk, and all the normal activities of drinking and accidentally starting fires and whatever else had been going on. Meanwhile Dean had hardly noticed it, somehow sucked into his own little world, like he and Cas were the only two people in the entire forest.

Super weird. Probably some effect that Castiel’s residual angel powers had. Making it easier to converse with him or something. That would totally be a useful trick to have up your sleeve. Dean shook it off.

He clapped his hand on Castiel’s thigh. “Well Cas, about time we get ourselves something to drink. Beer?”

“I’m guessing you will not be challenging me to anymore drinking competitions,” Castiel smiled.

“Hell no. But I can get you a beer.”

“Thank you,” he said, and the look on his face could only be described as fond. Dean was maybe ready to reevaluate his dislike of the guy. 

* * * *

Saturday morning Dean had a good long sleep in. By the time he woke, most of the kids in his cabin had dressed and left already, to go watch cartoons in the game room. Or at least, that’s where Dean assumed they all went. That’s where kids usually wound up on Saturday mornings until Rufus got the breakfast ready. He’d been drunk with the rest of them, so breakfast usually wasn’t until 9:30 or even 10:00, but on Saturdays there wasn’t an official schedule to keep.

Dean threw on some jeans and a t-shirt and headed up to the mess hall. Breakfast probably wouldn’t be up yet, but it would be soon, and Dean wanted to find Sam. It had been a whole week and Dean had seen less of him this summer than any summer in his life. All the more infuriating, as it was supposed to be the exact opposite this year, but Dean’s responsibilities kept taking him away.

Sam was leaning outside the Crossroads cabin, eating a candy bar from one of the vending machines. “Sammy!” Dean waved probably too enthusiastically, and almost certainly looking like a total dork, happy to see his jerk little brother. “How’ve you been?”

Sam groaned, tipping his head over so far it was resting on his shoulder in mock exhaustion. “Worst. Summer. Ever,” he proclaimed.

Dean rolled his eyes and punched him on the shoulder. Sam said this every summer. But it still hurt Dean a little every year. He knew Sam really did like it here. Here is where he belonged. Where all of the weird things he accidentally said out loud in class during the school year, were things that made sense and were appreciated. This was the place where the kid who _didn’t_ have a knife collection was a weirdo. It was where they both belonged, and they both knew that if they were at any other summer camp, that’s when it really would be the worst summer ever.

But that didn’t make it any better. Especially when Dean was supposed to be there for him this year. He was supposed to be making sure it was the best summer either of them had ever had. Fucking angels. 

“Dude, we need to hang out today. What do you wanna do?”

“I’m actually…” Sam trailed off and scratched behind his ear. “Actually I’m going out hiking today. With a girl from my cabin.”

“Oh, with a girl?” Dean taunted.

“Yeah. With Jess. So…”

“So you don’t wanna hang out with your awesome big brother, that’s what your saying. Even though you’ve seen Jess practically 24/7 everyday this week, you’re bailing on me.”

“We didn’t even have plans. Besides, we went canoeing. Relax,” Sam took the last bite of his candy bar and shoved the wrapper into the pocket of his jeans. “I’ll catch you later Dean.”

That afternoon, Ben and several of the kids from the Crossroads Cabin decided they wanted to put together a baseball game. Dean tried to remember the last time anyone tried to play an actual baseball game, and not just play a game of catch, or throwing the ball up for themselves so they could hit it. More commonly kids played basketball or soccer. It was just less ambitious to try and organize.

“I’ll see if I can get the equipment ready for you guys, but no promises I can find everything.”

“No problem,” said Ben. “We’ll just hang out in the game room and play foosball or whatever until you find it.”

Kid sure was horribly, annoyingly charismatic. It made it impossible for Dean to say no to him. He bounded off in the opposite direction, leaving Dean to sort through cobwebs and sports equipment.

Castiel was already in the shed, looking hopelessly through busted up equipment from a variety of sports. This shed was much smaller, and significantly more disorganized than the boating shed.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel greeted. “I’ve been sent to search for baseball supplies.”

“Ditto,” said Dean, and began rooting around in an old apple crate. He was pretty sure he’d find some gloves in there, underneath several deflated soccer balls and old t-shirts.

Castiel leaned over what Dean was doing to get to a large bin on the other side of him. The position didn’t work very well though, and Cas wound up pressed flush against Dean’s side, pinning him to the pile of broken sports supplies. He could feel the angel breathing and struggling with the bin above him, and okay…

Dean might have a distinct problem here, as a familiar heat rushed between his legs. He gulped and pushed Cas out of the way, causing the entire bin to crash to the ground.

“Sorry,” Dean gulped, refusing to look the angel in the eye. “I just… Started feeling claustrophobic.”

“My apologies,” he said, and he looked at Dean so _knowingly_ that Dean had to remind himself that he’d said specifically the night before that he can’t read minds. He had no idea how Dean had grown affectionate for the stupid way he had no common sense for personal space, or how Dean could identify him by his smell because of it.

He definitely had no idea that Dean’s dick was half hard right now, or that it was his fault.

“Can you help me pick up this equipment, Dean?”

“No,” Dean said incredulously, still refusing eye contact. “You’re the one who dropped it.” Dean made to quickly exit the shed, but Castiel grabbed his shoulder and wheeled him around.

“Are you okay? You’re not acting like yourself.” Castiel ducked his head to meet Dean’s eyes with his own, pulling their gazes back together. And that… That wasn’t helping Dean’s situation any at all. He breathed a bit haggardly and ignored the tightening of his jeans. But as annoying as Castiel was, he was attractive. And then he had this whole other worldly power thing, and a caring about Dean thing, and recently a human innocence thing. 

Dean gulped. It was a little overwhelming, and Dean was stupid enough he hadn’t realized this until his cock was throbbing and hard, and there was a guy standing two inches from his face, staring him down with a concerned look in his eyes.

“Yeah. I just need to get some goddamn air for a second. Leave me the fuck alone.” He shoved Cas out of the way and got himself out the door. The sunlight blazed down on his face, heating Dean’s already flushed skin. He supposed in this instance, thinking of baseball wouldn’t exactly be useful.

Son of a bitch. And here he’d hoped to be having a nice afternoon with his brother, and then there’s Cas fucking everything up like usual.

Castiel emerged from the shed several minutes later, his arms full of baseball gloves and a couple bats. “Feeling better?”

“What the fuck is your problem, man? Just leave me alone,” Dean glared at him.

Castiel tilted his head sympathetically, but said nothing. Dean watched him go as he carried the equipment out to the field, then he went back in the shed himself to dig out the bases and grab a few balls.

The baseball field was an overgrown mess, with patches of grass covering more than half of it, so it was a little difficult to tell where the bases were supposed to go at this point. Dean made his best guess and dropped the bases. No one actually cared, and probably only Ben would be paying enough attention to keep score. Somehow these games actually did become more about having fun with your friends, than playing a competitive game. Dean wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the lack of enough players to play a proper game in the first place. Or maybe it was the fact that everyone there was probably going to be stuck being a hunter for the rest of their life anyway, and the game by comparison _was_ just silly and fun.

Dean picked Gwen and Ava to be team captains, so he didn’t have to bother with splitting the teams himself, and sat down on the bench. The thing with Castiel was probably just a weird fluke, he decided. Just that his body didn’t realize who was behind him, and he got caught at the wrong time.

It’s not like Dean had never hooked up with a guy before or anything. It’s definitely not like he never hooked up with someone at camp—hell when hadn’t he? It’s not even like Dean had never been with a guy at summer camp. Only, this was the first time he had a crush and didn’t know what to do about it. So clearly it wasn’t a crush, it was a mistake. A brain to dick miscommunication. He was still fairly invested in being irritated with Castiel for ruining what should’ve been the best summer ever, so this was definitely not a real thing.

Ignoring it was the best solution available. 

Castiel walked over, sneaking up on Dean and his thoughts, so it was almost like he’d just suddenly appeared there, sitting next to him on the bench. “Are you keeping score?”

“No. Ben probably is, if you wanna know.”

Cas shrugged and kept looking at Dean. Dean kept his eyes trained at the ant mound by his feet.

“Ben is keeping score while he plays?”

“He’s the only one who cares. What do you care anyway? Fuck off.” Dean stood up and when he turned Castiel was staring up at him, his eyes all big and stupid and blue and gorgeous.

Dean punched him in the face before storming away, nursing his hand. He knew it was going to hurt again, but it was goddamn worth it.

* * * *

After the game (Ben declared that his team had won by two points, but Dean wasn’t sure if he was just saying that or if they’d actually won), Ava and Ben asked Dean to supervise them at the target range. Both of them were considered “too young” to be out there on their own. Bobby said he had to set a boundary somewhere with activities that were actually dangerous. So kids had to be in the Devil’s Trap cabin to be out on the range by themselves. Which was stupid, because it meant Anna never had to do her damn job.

Dean got out a few kinds of guns for the kids to shoot, and sent Ava out to set up the cans. He and Ben were just standing in a comfortable silence, when Jo stormed up. She had fixed her most indignant look on her face, and clearly was about to get all up in Dean’s business.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she fumed. She had this cute little way her nose scrunched and unscrunched when she did that, that Dean thought was hilarious. When she was younger, when she was nine and Dean was eleven, he would push her out of trees or hold her head underwater, just to see her make that stupid face. It was cuter then, when her features were young and round, but even now it retained some humor.

“Nuh-uh, no,” Jo scowled when Dean started laughing. “You are so fucked up, Dean Winchester. What on Earth is your problem with Castiel? Seriously. He’s just trying to figure out how humans operate, and how the hell he got stuck having to be around you—“

Jo stopped in mid-sentence, and just like, _inspected_ Dean’s face. “Of for fuck’s sake, Dean.”

“What?”

She side-eyed him. Hard. 

The thing about Jo is that she knew Dean like she was his sister. They’d both come to camp every summer, and occasionally they’d spent holidays together, or met up randomly during the year when a hunt brought them in proximity. Dean had known Jo since he was eight, and she was six, and Sammy was two. 

So the thing was, while Dean hadn’t said anything about him and Castiel, Jo probably knew all there was to tell. She could read him like a book, and right now that book said, “I’m falling for Castiel, but I already said I hate him. So I’m going to keep hating him, even though I keep looking longingly into his eyes and sometimes I get hard when he stands close to me.”

Jo rolled her eyes, but knowing all she needed to know, turned toward the beach. “Don’t let Ava shoot anyone,” she called back. “Girl’s gotta work on her damn aim!”

* * * *

The next day was stormy, and the forecast said it would rain them out all day. Were it a weekday, they’d probably have several library hours to log, but since it was Sunday it was easy to convince Bobby into a movie day. Dean snagged a spot next to Sammy on the couch nearest the TV. It was the best spot in the house to view the old twenty-inch set. Sometimes the picture blacked out for a few seconds, but it always came back in. It was a better TV than some motel rooms anyway. 

Jo and Castiel were across the room, sitting near the window. Rain streamed down the glass behind them, casting weird shadows on Jo’s long hair. They were talking in hushed tones, and it was disconcerting, because what could they be talking about besides Dean? Castiel glanced in his direction, and Dean quickly turned back to the TV, hoping he didn’t look mortified right now. He wanted to go over there and make them shut up. He didn’t like the idea of people talking about him. But he refused to cause a scene, and besides, then he would be the one who looked like an immature asshole and that was _not_ going to happen.

Only, causing a big scene and acting like an immature asshole was basically the only maneuver in Dean’s wheelhouse, so now he was stuck doing nothing. He wondered how difficult it would be to go the rest of the summer without speaking to Castiel again.

At least he was getting to hang out with Sammy today. He’d been busy with all his camp friends, and Dean had been busy with the younger kids. But Sam did seem genuinely happy this summer. Even more so than past years. 

“Why did Gennaro even go with to look at the Triceratops?” Sammy wondered aloud. “How’d he walk down that big hill with the stick up his butt?”

Dean laughed. “Maybe that’s why he needs to use the bathroom so bad later.”

Completely unprompted, Castiel came over and sat on the other side of Dean from Sam, reached into the bowl of popcorn on Dean’s lap, and started munching on a handful. He didn’t say anything. Dean’s heart started racing anyway.

What was he doing? Was this some play he was making; something Jo had talked him into? What game was Jo playing at here anyway? Did she want Castiel to talk to Dean about his goddamn _feelings_? Because fuck that. Dean didn’t even know what his feelings were; much less did he feel like he should go blabbing about them at some angel who didn’t even understand human emotion in the first place.

Dean turned around and shot a death glare at Jo. She smiled sweetly and gave him a thumbs up. 

Sam leaned over so he could better see Castiel as they started talking about the movie. Castiel, as it turned out, had many opinions on dinosaurs. The movie was getting to the T-Rex scene, so more and more people were setting down their board games and filtering across the room to see the crappy TV screen. 

Castiel made a point to catch Dean’s eye as he was looking around the room, and he smiled at him in that way of his that just… Totally ignoring the fact that Dean had now punched him in the face not once, but twice, within the week. For basically no reason, other than maybe the guy had a really nice face, and Dean wasn’t okay with that. Dean really needed a drink, because when Cas looked at him, that fond look on his face that was all in his eyes, Dean got this rush of warmth in his gut. Like, being _loved_ or something. He realized he’d been getting that all week, ever since they’d set up the canoes.

Jesus fuck, he was in trouble. No way anyone should be looking at him like that, ever. Not even Sammy should be looking at Dean like he deserves to be loved. Fuck, and now Dean just wanted to punch Castiel in the face again. Teach him a lesson about how little Dean deserved anything.

“Much of this scene is so implausible, and yet it’s very compelling,” Castiel noted.

“You mean the part about the Tyrannosaur’s inability to smell the humans?” Sam asked.

“Among other things, but yes, that is a major fault in the premise of this scene.”

Sam did the thing then, where he scooted forward in his seat and his arms got more animated, and he and Cas talked a whole bunch of nerdy stuff about dinosaurs that Dean didn’t understand. 

Castiel showed his engagement in the conversation entirely differently. He stayed sitting back on the couch, and he looked interestedly at Sam. It looked almost like he was just as interested in Sam, and the way he explained things and got excited about them, as he was in the conversation about dinosaurs and artistic decisions in filmmaking, or whatever exactly they were talking about.

The rain finally cleared up just before supper, and Bobby decided it was a good night for an all-camp bon fire. They’d been cooped up all day and needed to spend some time outside to keep the day from being a complete loss. The whole world was damp, but the firewood was kept under a tarp for just such a situation. 

It would be hot dogs on the fire for dinner tonight, so everyone was sent out into the woods to find themselves a roasting stick. 

“You guys don’t have any sticks here? The nice metal ones?” Maggie asked in disbelief.

“Girl, when you get stuck out in the woods because some ghost led you there, do you think you’re going to have a roasting stick?” asked Ellen. “You’re gonna have to hunt or fish whatever you get to eat, and you’ll have to figure out how to cook it on your own. Now get your ass up and find yourself a way to cook your hot dog, or you can eat it cold.”

Maggie, to her credit, didn’t say a word, but she did look at Ellen like she was completely insane. Dean was pretty sure she didn’t even believe in ghosts, and had only been sent along to look after her little brother.

Dean and Claire set out into the forest together, but it wasn’t long before Claire decided to climb a tree. “Why don’t you just get a stick that’s already fallen?” Dean asked.

“Because I can climb a tree! And I’ve been inside all day, and I can climb a tree,” she said, like it was super obvious. Dean had to admit she had a point. He kept walking in his own search. He could just go grab the sticks from the other fire pit deeper in the woods, but then he’d have to remember to bring them back later, and it was probably easier just to find another stick. It was a forest after all. It’s not like there was a shortage.

Dean kept on, glad for his jeans and hiking boots, so he didn’t have to lookout for poison ivy as it was starting to get dark. He walked through a spider web though, and waved his arms around, trying to brush the sticky stuff off, spitting out bits of web. “Puh, pfuh,” he spit loudly, brushing furiously at his neck, because he was pretty sure he felt the spider crawling there. And that’s when Castiel stumbled into him.

Like literally, into him, tripping over a log. It was like something out of a movie, or maybe just some kind of cosmic joke, and the two of them tumbled into a pile of weeds and dead leaves.

Cas was wearing some kind of overcoat or trench coat that was definitely too big for him, and somehow in the process of falling, half of the fabric had wound up under Dean, with Castiel on top of him. The whole mess left it impossible for Castiel to get up until Dean moved, but Dean, his mind muddled in panic, hadn’t quite figured it out.

Castiel peered down at him apologetically. Dean tried to push him off, and when the angel got stuck on his coat, he fell back, flush against Dean, their chins bumping together.

Dean wasn’t sure whose heart was thrumming more, his or Castiel’s. He could feel the angel’s pounding against his own chest, and when he realized that it was _him_ causing such a reaction in an ages old angel, he panicked even more.

“Cas, get off,” Dean choked out.

Castiel’s reaction was apparently to start squirming around, trying to take his coat off. Which was, okay, not helpful at all, and given what happened the day before Dean didn’t think he really needed the guy to be on top of him, accidentally sort of… grinding against him, whilst taking off an article of clothing.

Castiel, bless him, completely ignored the way Dean’s body was reacting, even though he had to have felt it. His dick was straining against his jeans, begging for more friction. Dean breathed, and lay stock still, avoiding Castiel’s eye contact like nothing else mattered.

Finally getting his arms out of his sleeves, Castiel was more or less straddling Dean, breathing hard. He seemed like he didn’t know what to do with himself next, and didn’t move. Pushing him again would require Dean to move though, giving his dick the exact friction it wanted, and Dean didn’t know where that would lead.

Probably to embarrassment and doing things that are way to inappropriate to even think about doing with an angel. He came from Heaven, for fuck’s sake. He probably never even thinks about his dick.

“Jesus Christ, Cas. How the hell are you this clumsy?”

“Walking wasn’t something that was necessary until recently, I suppose,” he replied, but he still didn’t move. He was sitting as awkwardly still as Dean was, and there was no way around it, Dean was going to have to move.

Then Cas pressed down. And the full weight of the situation, and Castiel’s cock, hit Dean. Cas was hard too, at least as hard as Dean was, and he was blushing, as he tried to get up without Dean knowing. 

Dean stopped a moan in his throat, and Castiel looked down at him. Caught up in the feeling of Cas’ dick hard against his, Dean had forgotten about his intentions to avoid eye contact, and Castiel looked worried. Of course, he’d probably never been in this situation before. Dude wasn’t even used to walking through the woods, the likelihood that he would have had… dick…situations. Pretty unlikely.

Dean tried to make his face look reassuring. “Uh, it’s okay, man.”

Castiel shifted again and Dean closed his eyes against the ripples of pleasure that went up his spine and back down through his dick again. Then the friction was gone, and Dean felt cold, and Castiel was running off through the trees, leaving Dean alone, laying on the guy’s trench coat. He let his head fall back into the leaves and sighed, rubbing himself through his jeans.

* * * *

Daily Itinerary: Silver Cabin (Week 4-8)

7:00 AM- Breakfast

7:30- Return to cabins to brush teeth, finish any daily organizing you failed to complete prior to breakfast. (It is mandatory that all campers complete personal hygiene tasks!)

8:00-9:00- Hiking (Dean Winchester instructing)

9:15-10:15- Hand to Hand Combat & Target Range practice (Dean Winchester & Jo Harville instructing)

10:30- Snack break

10:45-11:45- Library & Arts and Crafts (Dean Winchester & Castiel instructing)

12:00 PM- Lunch

1:00- Free Choice. 

Dean stood in the mess hall, looking over his daily schedule for the second half of camp. He rubbed a hand over his face and turned to Rufus. “Make my coffee a double portion. Looks like I’m hiking in the mornings from now on.”

He made a point to ignore the point on his schedule where he’d be tag teaming with Castiel. They’d seen each other on a daily basis since the night in the woods, but spent the last three weeks pretending it never happened. Three weeks was like three years, camp time, so Dean figured it was firmly in the past. Or at least it had been, before they were put on the schedule together.

Dean was perhaps a bit worried his attractions would be rejuvenated with increased exposure to him. He’d spent the last few weeks valiantly convincing himself of all the ways Castiel was not perfect. He didn’t want to think about it. So ignoring it and focusing on one thing at a time, hiking first, was clearly the way to go.

“Like having first period P.E. class for half the summer,” Jo grinned. “Ouch.” She grabbed the Silver Cabin schedule and smirked, tossing a wink in Dean’s direction. “Looks like you’ve got your day cut out for you.”

“That’s why they give it to the younger kids first,” Dean sighed, paying no attention to Jo’s insinuation. “They actually like it. And you can shut up or I’ll ask Bobby to send you instead.”

“Can’t. I’m in Arts and Crafts with Anna.”

“Slackers. I know the only one who even needs any instruction is Becky, and no one even cares. Not like she has a hunter’s discount, if you know what I’m saying.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Have fun hiking, Dean. See you at the target range. I can bring the kids who want to fight over to the gym.”

After the kids had brushed their teeth, the cabin was abuzz about the schedule change. It meant they were now in the second half of camp for the year, and it was sad to think the downhill slide toward the end was in affect. It also meant that they were that much closer to the Wendigo hunt in the last week of camp.

Of course, it wasn’t a real Wendigo they’d be hunting. Sort of difficult to arrange something like that, but way back when Bobby was first setting up the camp it was set into agreement that Sam and Dean would get to attend for more than just a hunter’s discount. That they could go to Camp Wendigo for free, if John would play the Wendigo for the last week of camp.

During the hunt, all the campers came together to track and locate “the Wendigo”, and then together fight him off. Obviously it was a game, and special rules were put in place because no one was actually going to kill Sam and Dean’s dad, but it was still exciting, and once it was the last week of camp, no one knew exactly when the hunt would begin.

The change in schedule, including the start of hiking exercises, signaled a more specific turn in training. There were many trails through the several miles of woods that comprised the camp. Especially for the youngest campers, it was important they start to learn their way around, learn some survivalist skills for if they got lost, and some navigation skills to reduce the chance of that.

In Dean’s opinion, it was annoying when a case led him into the deep wilderness, but it can and does happen. “All right, hiking boots on. Bug spray. Hats. Canteens. Compasses. Everyone ready to go?”

“Ready!” 

“Let’s go!”

Okay, Dean thought, rolling his eyes. The kids were excited for hiking. He led them to the edge of the woods and they all sprayed up with mosquito repellent. At least the fact that they were going so early in the morning meant that they got out before the sun had warmed things up, and ensured that if they got back late, they wouldn’t be late for lunch. 

For the first day, Dean figured he’d review the basic path around the entire camp. It was the most well worn path, and everyone had already walked it at least once by now. He was met with groans of disapproval.

“You all know how to use a compass yet?” Most of them shook their heads no. “Then shut the fuck up. Claire’s gonna teach you it, because I’m shit with that stuff. Pay attention, because you’re gonna want to know your way back to camp during the Wendigo hunt.”

Dean started walking, trusting that the campers would follow suit behind him, and he knew they did because he could hear their chatter behind him. Claire got down to business explaining something about degrees and directions. Honestly, compasses had never made a lot of sense to Dean. He’d always been better at finding his way by instinct. Whenever he tried using a compass he’d messed it up somehow and wound up going in the exact opposite direction from what he needed. Usually he’d be with Sammy anyway, and Sam _did_ understand all that math and nerd stuff.

Claire, apparently, had spent upwards of a month in the forest in Colorado with only the clothes on her back. She explained she’d taught herself the navigational skills she was teaching the rest of the group, when she’d come across an old campsite. There was a compass there, and the instructions were in a backpack pocket. “If only they’d also had a map, then I’d have known which direction to walk in!” she joked, then pointed something out on Krissy’s compass.

So the youngest person in the group was the one doing all the work, but that was fine with Dean if it meant he didn’t have to do anything. Once they got to the edge of camp, he pointed out where Bobby had placed the wards protecting the camp. “So don’t mess with any of that stuff, all right? Even as a joke, that’s not hilarious.”

It was a short hike today, and the group arrived back before the next activity started. Dean gave them ten minutes to grab some water and hang out before meeting at the target range. The field was starting to get overgrown, and Bobby was probably going to have Dean mow it within the next couple of days. He quietly hoped Uriel would offend Bobby somehow, so he’d make him do it instead.

“Okay,” Dean announced, once everyone had arrived. “New activities are open and you get a choice this period of two things. Practice at the target range, or go over to the gym and punch each other.”

Dean expected pretty much everyone to want to try hand-to-hand combat for at least the first few days, and he wasn’t wrong. The whole group abandoned the field and wandered over to the nearest cabin, inside which was one large room, the floor covered in mats. There were three martial arts dummies to punch and kick at, situated in corners around the room, and one wall had all sorts of protective padding in different sizes for the kids to wear as they beat each other up.

Dean and Jo had a few moves to show off, but mostly they just let the kids figure out their own style by trial and error. No better teacher than experience, Dean figured. Hell, he’d figured out most of his fighting by messing with Sammy and Jo, and he wasn’t dead yet.

“What are they doing?” Jo asked, pointing to Ed and Harry. Harry had pulled his shirt over his head, and was waving his arms around. Ed then jumped in and started kicking him in the gut. Both of them over balanced and fell.

Dean covered his mouth with his hand, masking his amusement, before he walked over to help. “What’s the point of the shirt, Harry?”

“I’m the ghost.”

“GMA,” explained Harry, like it was obvious. “Ghost martial arts.”

Dean had no response to that. He just backed away slowly and explained the situation to Jo.

* * * *

Up next the kids had another choice, arts and crafts, or library. Honestly, Dean didn’t know what they’d choose, and they’d all probably get a good mix of both just based on the whims of the day. The space was being split between his cabin and the Crossroads cabin. Which meant Cas would be there. The time when it was easy to ignore him was coming swiftly to a close.

The groups met in the library to start, and those that wanted to try the arts and crafts activity would be welcome to leave. Dean and Cas stood at the front of the room, as Castiel started explaining angel banishing sigils, and how they work. 

Dean should probably be looking at him, and not the floor, but he couldn’t bring himself to. You’d think ignoring an awkward situation would make it easier to forget, but as it turned out, Dean couldn’t even hear the name Castiel without being reminded of what had happened. Without thinking about how his cock had felt against his thigh.

Dean was blushing, and he hoped no one noticed. And he hoped at least half the kids would be bored by the idea of angel banishing sigils, and would stay in the library. Thereby forcing Dean to stay in the library, allowing him to continuing in the Ignoring Castiel Project.

Just Dean’s luck, that apparently whatever Cas was saying was very engaging. They all wanted to make angel banishing sigils. Dean hoped this wouldn’t prove endlessly frustrating for anyone like some of Bobby’s sigil lessons, but then Castiel provided everyone with a large portion of bright red finger paints.

“Looks like blood,” Dean said.

“It supposed to look like blood,” scoffed Sam. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

Dean snorted, like the idea of him paying more than half a second attention to Castiel was preposterous. “No.”

Sammy rolled his eyes as if to say, “Typical,” and went back to listening to whatever Cas was going on about. Everyone was about to get their clothes covered in red paint smudges.

Dean was no help at all in this particular lesson, having never made, or even heard of an angel banishing sigil before ten minutes ago. He sat down at a table in the back and figured he’d pay attention. If he ever ran across an angel who was as much of a dick as Uriel, he was going to want to know this stuff.

Castiel wound around the room, checking over how everyone was doing and making small corrections. Dean’s heart started to flutter and oh my god, how much of a girl was he even being, when he couldn’t have Castiel come over to him to look at his stupid finger paintings without blushing and averting his eyes.

At what point, exactly, had he gone from face-punching-guy, to thirteen-year-old girl? He may as well be writing Castiel’s name over and over in loopy cursive on a notebook cover.

“That looks nice, Dean,” Cas smiled at him, and the warm fondness curled in Dean’s stomach. “No need for me to school the master.”

Castiel held his eye contact with Dean for decidedly too long, and then when he realized what he was doing, looked way quickly, rubbing his palms against his jeans and turning to go help someone else.

Dean couldn’t wait for this period to be done with. As soon as everyone took off for lunch, Dean snuck off to the showers, saying he needed to wash off the grime of the morning hike.

He pulled the pale yellow curtain shut behind him, and rested his head on the cool concrete of the shower wall. Castiel’s eyes, and the lithe way he moved around the room still coursing through his mind, he let the shower beat down on his back. He actually did have morning grime to wash off, and it felt good. 

He also still remembered how it had felt to have Castiel’s body pressed up against his. How they’d been flush up against one another, and had fit just so under his stupid coat. Dean stroked himself at the memory of how maybe things could’ve gone differently. If when Castiel had shifted against him, and given Dean that worried look, Dean had pulled him closer. If he’d pressed his lips to Castiel’s to wipe that look away. If he’d reached around and cupped the angel’s ass, and ground up into him, feeling their dicks rub hard against each other through the layers of fabric, harder and more frantic as Dean would’ve stuck his tongue in Castiel’s mouth. Rutting together, and they both would’ve come in their shorts, panting against one another.

Dean came against the shower wall, then turned to face the spray, still thrusting into his hand, milking the last of it out. In another universe, he and Cas walked back to the campfire, trying to ignore the mess in their shorts, but at the same time hiding embarrassed smiles for the memory of what they’d just done. They would both have forgot about the roasting sticks they’d been meant to find, and laughed. “We’ll just have to go look again,” Dean would’ve grinned, and as the two retreated back into the woods, Dean would’ve found it impossible to keep his mouth off Castiel’s neck.

* * * *

Dean kept up with his daily, pre-lunch showers for the next few days, and he wondered if it would be too obvious if he kept that schedule for the rest of camp or not. Both Sam and Jo had given him significant looks when he finally did show up for lunch, but other than that things were going fine.

Bobby stood up in the middle of lunch, which was quite unusual. Announcements were usually saved for dinner. “Campers, everyone… Hi,” he started. “It looks like we have everyone in the room, if not, please spread the word. I just got some bad news.”

That got everyone’s attention. They stopped eating and looked at Bobby.

“Nothing that will probably affect us, however a camper from Camp Chipmunk across the lake has gone missing. Apparently a young boy, age nine. He has brown hair and eyes. So, just… We’re going to keep a look out for him at our side of the lake. More importantly, I know you guys are all thinking in the hunter mindset… What took this boy? Don’t forget, it’s more likely _who_ took this boy. Our camp is warded against almost every kind of _what_ , but humans can still get in. More likely than not, this boy was taken by a person. Be on your guard, and let a counselor know if you see anyone suspicious.”

The older kids were talking seriously about the threat. The younger kids were giggling. “Like we could take out a lake monster, but have trouble with a human?”

“If he tries to take me, I’ll stab him in the leg. If that doesn’t work, I kick him where I stabbed him, then I run. I’m not scared.”

“Don’t underestimate humans,” said Dean seriously. “Ghosts, monsters… They follow patterns. They’re predictable. Once you know what it is that you’re up against, you know what to do and you can beat it. Humans though. They’re just crazy.”

“Yeah, but they’re just humans. Monsters are stronger than us; faster than us. We can still beat _them_ ,” Krissy argued. “Humans and us are like, equally matched!”

“You tell us if you see someone. I don’t want to discuss it.”

“But they’re just people!”

“Wait until you live through Jr. High School. End of discussion.”

* * * *

Dean was set to be lifeguard for the afternoon; Uriel couldn’t do it absolutely everyday apparently. He was fairly insufferable, but Bobby didn’t see that as a reason to torture the guy. Not that lifeguard was even a bad gig, but it was pretty boring to do the same job every single day.

Dean got himself changed into his swimming shorts, which was nothing more than a pair of athletic shorts that were probably a size to small if he was honest. Not having sandals pulled on his boots without socks, then left them unlaced as he walked back to the boathouse. He had no idea where the hell Uriel had left the snorkel and goggles he’d been using, or even if there was another set somewhere he could use.

He was rooting around in the pile of lifejackets when he could feel eyes on him. It was like electricity dancing across his skin, and he knew it was Castiel watching him. The way his eyes watched him, and no one else could make Dean feel that unsettled and excited and amazed all at the same time. No surprise when he turned around to find Cas standing less than three feet away. After all the awkwardness, he still had no concept of personal space.

Or subtlety. He continued to look over Dean’s torso, mapping out his naked chest and abs, exploring down to the line of his shorts, apparently shameless. Dean really didn’t know what to say. This was the first time the two of them had been alone together in ages. He turned back without saying anything, and continued looking for his stuff.

Castiel stepped closer behind him to pick through the lifejackets, presumably why he’d come in the shed in the first place. He kept turning to look at Dean, then going back to the lifejackets. Like he couldn’t quite decide which thing he ought to do. Should he stay on his task, or should he deal with the problem with Dean? He seemed to be at an impasse of his own decisions. That free will can be a bitch.

Fuck it, Dean thought, and turned to face Cas. “What’s going on, man? Seems like years since we talked.”

Dean wasn’t really comfortable with someone looking at him the way Cas did. Cas looked at him like he was some kind of important, amazing person, which made it really awkward for him to say or do anything so long as Castiel was looking at him.

“I have missed talking to you, Dean.”

Dean nodded, and looked at his feet.

Castiel ducked his head down to meet Dean’s eyes. “I have,” he said. “I regret making you angry. I… Human interactions seem fairly self-explanatory, but Jo tells me you don’t interact like a proper human. I expect she judges you too harshly.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at that. “I’m not angry with you.”

Castiel furrowed his brow. “You hit me. In the face.”

“Yeah,” Dean didn’t really want to explain all that. “I guess I was angry at myself.”

Castiel reached out and brushed Dean’s cheek with the back of his hand. And um, whoa… Dean’s eyes widened and his every instinct told him to grab Castiel’s wrist and push him away. But he didn’t. He had to hold his breath to stop himself, somehow having to stop everything he was doing at all, to keep himself from going for his first impulse. But he stopped himself.

If he stopped Cas now, this would just be another scene to regret and rewrite against the shower wall.

Cas stepped closer to Dean, and Dean was suddenly struck by not knowing what to do with his hands. What did he usually do with his hands when someone was touching his face? He had instincts and he was good at sex, he knew he was, but for some reason those things didn't apply when it came to Castiel. Castiel, somehow, was someone he liked differently than anyone he’d been with before.

And even though, okay by now it was painfully obvious that he did want to have all kinds of sex with Castiel, he was finding himself over-thinking every move. What did he usually do with his hands? With his mouth?

Castiel’s hands were sweeping over Dean’s shoulders, while the angel looked at him curiously, as though trying to figure out why Dean still hadn’t stopped him. His fingers danced over his muscles, fascinated as he explored Dean’s body. He peered into Dean’s face for any hint of disapproval.

Dean grabbed one of Cas’ wrists, because he guessed that if that’s what his first instinct was, maybe that’s what he should do. Only this prompted Cas to stop everything. “It’s okay,” said Dean, then rubbed his thumb over the pulse point in his wrist before stepping closer and putting his other hand on Cas’ hip.

Cas sighed nervously, his breath hitting Dean’s neck. “Sorry,” said Dean, “to make you nervous.”

“No,” Cas breathed. “I just didn’t realize how it would be. To be near you.”

“You… Want to be near me though?”

“Yes. Dean I—Promise you won’t tell the other counselors?”

“Shit Cas, why would I tell them anything?”

Cas smiled. “I have been curious. Since the incident in the woods,” he blushed. “It was surprising. This body is more reactive than expected.”

Dean smirked, moving his other hand to Castiel’s hip. “Yeah, it does that.”

They were close now, and Castiel’s breath found its way up from Dean’s neck to his lips as the angel shed some embarrassment and locked eyes with Dean again. Dean gulped, but his instinct now was way more clear, which, given their lips were practically already touching wasn’t that much of a challenge. He closed the rest of the gap and pressed his lips against Castiel's, reveling in the softness of his mouth. Shuffling even closer until the hard lines of his body were flush with Cas, Dean let out a soft moan as he parted his lips, letting his tongue tentatively stroke against Cas' bottom lip until he opened up. 

Then Castiel’s leg was between Dean’s, shoving insistently where Dean’s cock was growing rapidly harder, while his hands were stoking up and down his back. Dean wasn’t sure whether Cas was doing this intentionally or not, but he decided to test the waters a bit by rubbing his thumbs along Cas’ hip until they snuck beneath the elastic on his briefs, before moving back up under his shirt, stomach muscles jumping under his hands. The angel dug into Dean’s back harder.

Dean tried to be slow and considerate, wanting to give Castiel time to discover exactly what he wanted. But his cock was straining against the soft fabric of his shorts, hard and desperate for more friction, and Castiel moaned against his lips as Dean's hands underneath his shirt stroked across his chest, and any thoughts of taking his time were quickly chased away by his need for more. 

He shoved his own leg up to where Castiel’s cock was just as hard as Dean's, and ground against him, up into the space between their legs, his dick jumping at the friction. They both rolled their hips for more. Occasional gasps and the rustle of fabric as they moved filled Dean’s ears, the taste of Cas against his tongue- Dean felt surrounded, enveloped by Castiel.

Dean's hands itched to reach into Castiel’s jeans and wrap around his cock, but unsure if that would be moving too fast, he contented himself with teasing at his waistband again, stroking skin above the button. Castiel’s hips jerked at that, and Dean took that as a go ahead to undo the top button and slide down the fly, allowing Cas to pull his jeans down a bit, leaving only navy blue boxer briefs between Dean and Castiel’s cock. 

He edged his hands down the backside of the briefs, cupping the top of Castiel’s ass. Castiel seemed to like that, if the groan and the way his head fell back was any indication. Dean bent his head forward and moved his lips across Castiel's neck, the movement eliciting another sound from Cas before he brought his head back up and slotted his lips against Dean's, sliding his tongue into his open mouth. Dean smiled around it, and they continued to buck into one another, Dean using his grip on Cas' ass to pull him forward, against Dean even harder. Cas shuddered, his ass flexing as he moved against Dean.

Cas' jeans had only been pushed hallway down his thighs, getting in Dean's way as he moved, the rhythm stilted. Dean pulled away just enough to reach a hand between them and moved the elastic of his own shorts down, revealing his erection. No longer restrained, he moved until his hips aligned with Castiel's and slid up against the line of his cock, still hidden behind blue fabric. Castiel seemed to be on board with this plan, his hands already moving to free himself from his briefs. With the material out of the way, Dean couldn't help but finally wrap his fingers around the angel's hard length. Castiel moved to do the same to Dean, and soon they began to stroke each other, the rhythm a little awkward at first, but Dean was too distracted by the feeling of a hand on his dick and Castiel's lips now kissing across his neck to care. 

Cas' fingers moved softly against Dean. His grip on Dean's cock was too loose at first, but as he got used to the hot, thick weight of it in his hands, he grew more confident and his exploratory touches finally paid off when he found the right grasp and rhythm, the movement tearing a loud groan from Dean. The feeling of Cas stroking him caused Dean's own hand to falter, neglecting Castiel's cock as he bucked his hips against Cas' hand. After a few more strokes, Dean reached down, taking Castiel's hand away from him and interlacing their fingers as he slid his cock along Castiel's. 

The slide of their erections against each other was clumsy without a hand to guide them, so Castiel reached down once again and wrapped his fingers around both of them, his other hand reaching behind Dean to grab hold of his ass, taking charge of their movements. Dean reached between them to stroke along with Cas, the angel moving their hips as he pleased. The feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other was like heaven. What started out as quiet gasps had long evolved into loud groaning, and soon Castiel tensed, his hand tightening even more as he came first, hot and surprised. 

Even as he was winding down, he continued to roll his hips into their hands until it became too much and he moved to buck against Cas' hip, rutting against him until he came, decorating the bottom of Cas’ t-shirt.

Gasping, his lips searched for Castiel’s again, breathing hard into his mouth, licking a clumsy and wet kiss across his teeth before he let his head fall and rest on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel let most of his weight rest against Dean.

“That answer your curiosity at all?” Dean whispered, smiling into Castiel’s neck.

 

* * * * 

In the next week, two more campers across the lake were reported missing. Anna’s group of campers in the Devil’s Trap cabin stopped their usual activities, and took to scouring the forest of Camp Wendigo, as well as for a mile on each side, looking for any sign of the missing children or their abductor.

Dean and Bobby took the boat over to the camp, hoping to gather as much information as they could. Dean stepped out onto the dock at Camp Chipmunk, and felt a bit outclassed. The place looked like he’d just stepped onto the set of a movie. There was an actual beach, with sand and a roped off area for swimming. 

There certainly weren’t a billion weeds growing in the sandy area, and the swimming area had been raked out as well. Well, if the kids couldn’t get used to a few leaves brushing against their legs while they swam, how on earth could they expect to jump into a mucky swamp someday? Of course, these children had no plans to ever jump into a mucky, creature infested swamp. They just wanted to swim. 

Dean and Bobby hiked up the hill towards some picturesque cabins, all looking like they’d been given a fresh coat of paint this spring to look their best for all the campers. It all made it easy to forget the haunting truth—that someone was preying on the kids at this camp. They headed up to the camp office.

Camp Chipmunk’s camp director was a large, cheerful looking woman in her forties, with long curly hair that wouldn’t be tamed. She showed them the pictures of the missing children. The boy who’d gone missing first, “His name is Brandon. He’s nine,” she said. He had a mop of brown hair that went in all directions, it reminded Dean of Sammy’s hair when he’d been younger, and big brown eyes that took up nearly half his face. “He was missing for awhile before anyone noticed, I think. Quiet boy. Really cute and athletic, but he keeps to himself mostly. I think we all thought he was in his bunk. But by lights out, we realized he was gone. After that we were on the look out.”

She pushed forward about twelve pictures of the two girls. “Jackie and Kyla,” she said. “They’ve been inseparable since the first day of camp. Jackie’s eight,” she pointed at the black girl in the photos. She had a smile so wide that in every photo, her eyes were squinted shut. In most of them her arm was slung around the other girl’s shoulder. Clearly that was Kyla, who had so many freckles it distracted Dean from the rest of her face, and beautiful hazel eyes that pierced right through him, even in a photograph.

“The last anyone saw of them, they were headed from the mess hall after dinner. They were headed toward their cabin, and they had a flashlight. We could see them, and the cabin’s just right over there,” she pointed. Dean could see the cabin clearly, right across the field. There was nowhere to hide between here and there. The walk seemed perfectly safe, even for two little girls. “I saw them myself, and they were halfway there. But they never made it back to the cabin. We knew they were missing within minutes, but there was no sign anywhere.”

Bobby took the woman’s hands in a gesture of comfort, before asking the tough questions. “Did anyone hear anything? When the girl’s were taken, I mean.”

She shook her head, looking horrified at just the idea of what anyone might have heard. “No. I just heard the counselor yelling for them out the door about five minutes later, and I knew they should’ve been there by now. It was like they vanished into thin air.”

“We’re gonna keep an eye out for them,” Dean promised. “Thank you for the pictures.”

Dean and Bobby still weren’t convinced that this wasn’t the work of a person, given the evidence, which was nothing. But even so, a threat in their neighborhood was a threat in their neighborhood.

“How do you think he did it?” asked Dean, back on the boat.

“However it is that people usually grab little kids and get away with it,” Bobby grumbled. “He’s bigger, faster, and he’s practiced. He covered their mouths right away and made for the woods.”

“You definitely think it was a guy then?”

“No idea. Could’ve been anyone. Anything.”

The pictures of the kids were hung up in the library, as well as a written account of the circumstances around when the children were taken. Brandon was most likely taken during daylight hours, but no one was around, and no one knew where from. If he was indoors or outdoors at the time of his abduction was a mystery.

The girls went missing at dusk. Quickly, quietly, and without a trace.

Brandon probably had a book with him, but that was just a guess. The girls definitely had a flashlight. There was no evidence of either object. Those went with the kids.

Immediately the library became more popular than it had ever been in any year of Camp Wendigo history. 

* * * *

Everyone was on edge about the Camp Chipmunk situation, but regular activities continued as usual. Dean spent an hour looking everywhere in the camp for Claire and Krissy, terrified that something had happened to them. Eventually he discovered them back in their cabin, Claire braiding Krissy’s hair while they gossiped about Disney Channel TV shows.

For the first time ever, Dean wished Bobby had created a summer camp with more supervision. He hated not knowing where the kids went off to every afternoon, knowing that there was every chance they’d never come back.

Bobby finally caved and instigated a stricter approach to afternoon activities. “Everyone must actually choose something to do, not just wander around the camp aimlessly, doing whatever you want. If you go hiking, you _must_ be with a counselor.” He side-eyed Ava and Jake, who’d gotten so caught up in their make out session half a mile through the trees, that they’d come back after dinner hour had ended. Thus being the incident that prompted the new rules.

Dean was cool with it, even if it did mean he had less free time in the afternoon. He would just have to find other times to meet up with Cas, like the other evening when they’d met up in the showers. He wasn’t going to be able to enjoy himself anyway, if he was busy worrying that one of the stupid “Ghostfacer” kids, as they’d started calling themselves, was off being skinned alive somewhere.

Sam and his friend Jess spent most of their afternoons in the library, and Dean noticed Sam had developed a methodical way of searching out information relevant to the investigation. Today he was searching through local news articles dating back to the 1800’s.

“Hey Bobby,” he asked. “Why do you all this place Camp Wendigo?”

“A hundred some years ago there was a Wendigo killed in the area. Just on the south end of the property, actually. That was when it was first documented, and it was definitely _killed_ a hundred years ago, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“And you’re absolutely sure it’s the only one?”

“Can’t be absolutely sure of anything, Sam. But there hasn’t been activity suspicious of a Wendigo here since that last one, and trust me, given the land’s history, it’s been on our radar.”

“Right.”

“You kids getting yourselves psyched up for the big Wendigo hunt then?”

“We’re still going through with that?” Jess asked. “I mean, it involves us running around in the woods by ourselves.”

“I was thinking of coming up with a buddy system, that put the younger campers with an older buddy. What’s Camp Wendigo if you don’t get to hunt a Wendigo?”

“I dunno,” said Sam, staring at his computer screen. “Safe?”

Next week was the last week of camp already. If Bobby didn’t call it off, John wasn’t going to know. He usually just showed up and started grabbing people. Eerily like the girl’s across the lake had been taken. And at that point, the hunt would be on.

Dean honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted a Wendigo hunt or not, by this point. Castiel snuck in behind him, and sat down next to him. “You seem lost in thought,” he noted.

Dean snaked his hand between Castiel’s thighs, under the table. “Yeah, it’s a real problem lately.”

Cas played with the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. “If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“Gross, Dean,” said Sam. “Your little brother’s right here, if you didn’t notice.”

“I’m gross? Look at you. You and your friend, doing research all afternoon.”

“Yes. We are in the _library_ , around _people_ , so Jess and I are doing _research_.”

Dean looked at Cas and squeezed his thigh. “Yeah? Well so are we.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t even know why Bobby lets you work here.”

* * * *

It was ten days until the end of camp, and all anyone was talking about was whether or not Bobby would call off the Wendigo hunt after all. No one else from across the lake had been taken in over a week, and the campers were once again beginning to feel more confident of their safety. 

The counselors had returned back to their usual methods of supervising the campers, and the air of relaxation was returning back to the camp. “We’re probably going to do it,” said Andy, at breakfast. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Nah,” said Gwen. “I think Bobby’ll chicken out. We don’t see each other for days sometimes, camping out like we do. I mean, I hope he doesn’t, but I think he’ll call it off. He’d have to.”

“It would be the smarter thing to do,” agreed Jo, “but honestly. I think he’ll do that buddy system thing he thought up, and when that all falls apart, whatever, right?”

“I don’t really want to do it this year, to be honest,” said Becky. “I don’t feel safe.”

“Well, he’s got a few days left to decide,” said Jo. “I guess we’ll see what happens.

* * * *

After lunch most of the kids went swimming. It was one of those heavy afternoons that was over a hundred degrees, and Dean spent most of the afternoon underwater, a lake monster gunning specifically for Sam. Sam always complained that Dean went after him the most, and it wasn’t even fair, even on days when Dean was ignoring him. So it was especially fun to actually be a giant pain and not let Sam swim freely for more than five minutes at a time.

“Knock it off, Dean!” Sam kicked away from him, purposely kicking him in the ribs. “It’s not even funny.”

“Eh, it kind of is,” laughed Jess.

“You’re gonna get it now,” Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows. Then replaced his snorkel and dove back under the surface.

It was quiet down here. Just kids’ legs, standing out stark white against he murky water. Seaweed tangled around Dean’s ankles, and itched at his toes, and he chose another target, deciding that was enough for Sam and Jess. For now. He’d be back for them after he pulled Ben under.

Ah, but Ben was too quick for him and Dean surfaced again. It was too hot to be anywhere else today, so everyone was in the water. Even Bobby. It made it harder to choose a victim, and harder to sneak between swimmers undetected, but all in all, that wasn’t a big deal. It was just one of those peaceful afternoons where everyone was splashing and having a good time.

Dean dove back under the water again and swam over to where Castiel was treading water. He had no idea if Castiel had noticed him or not, but whatever. He grabbed his swim trunks and pulled them down to his knees, then started palming at his junk under the water. He could hear Cas’ muffled shouting through the water, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Castiel reached down and grabbed Dean by the hair, before ripping the goggles and snorkel from his head.

Keeping his hand right where he wanted it, on Castiel’s cock, Dean’s head popped up above the water. 

“I’ve done it!” Castiel announced. “I’ve killed the lake monster! No need to worry, you can send the children back in the water. The lake monst—“

Dean shut Castiel up by tickling his fingers against his balls. “Now don’t get ahead of yourself there Cas. You better make sure the monster’s really dead,” Dean grinned, then swam off, leaving Castiel to pull up his shorts before he lost them at the bottom of the lake.

That was the day that Ben didn’t come back.

* * * *

There were two options, basically. Either A) Ben was taken by the same person who took the children from Camp Chipmunk. It would fit the mystery assailant’s M.O., as Ben was only slightly older than the other children, and he disappeared apparently into thin air. Or B) John had gotten his dates mixed up and the Wendigo hunt was starting a few days early.

Bobby was trying to get a hold of John Winchester, dialing and redialing every couple minutes, but it just kept ringing before switching to voicemail. Finally he frowned, shoving the phone across the table. “Why don’t you try it,” he scowled at Dean. “He’s your father.”

“If we can’t contact John, we need to assume the worst,” said Rufus. “Give you guys fifteen more minutes, then I’m reporting him missing to the police.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” said Bobby. “Assume the worst, yes. But the local opinion of me is never exactly the greatest. Report a kid missing and they could just shut us down.”

“They lost three kids across the lake and I don’t see them getting shut down,” Rufus pointed out.

“Somehow the vibe over there’s different,” Bobby rolled his eyes. “You have better upkeep and make sure the place actually _looks_ like a summer camp, somehow I think you get more of a pass.”

“Bullshit bunch of crock.”

“We still have to report him missing, Bobby,” said Ellen. “If we don’t and never find him, the situation will be worse.”

Dean tried dialing his dad for a third time, and gave up when the voicemail picked up again. “Listen Dad, it’s Dean. We need to know where you are and if you’re at camp yet. It’s important.”

“He probably won’t call back,” Dean sighed, hanging up.

“He never actually does,” said Bobby, looking at the ceiling. “Okay. I’m calling off the hunt. Kids are all staying inside tomorrow, I don’t care if it’s hundred and ten degrees, tomorrow’s a movie day. Dean, get in the truck. You and I are going out to scope the nearby properties again for any signs of anything. Rufus, you and Anna go out and double check the wards.”

“In the dark? Bobby.”

“I don’t want to take any chances, and I want to know what this is. If the wards are intact, then at this point we can know for sure it’s a human. And then I’ll report Ben missing. If they’ve been messed with, we might have a whole different situation on our hands.”

“Still hard to check ‘em in the dark.”

Bobby rolled his eyes, “Just check the damn wards, Rufus.” He turned to Dean, “Get your stuff; let’s go.” 

Before they left he asked Ellen to stay with Dean’s kids in the Silver cabin for the night, and Jo to hang with the Devil’s Trap cabin. Bobby wasn’t leaving anyone alone.

It was a long night, driving around the lake and past “No trespassing” signs to peer through windows of houses and cabins. There was nothing suspicious to be found, even in the properties that were empty. An old, rundown mobile home, nothing. Two dilapidated barns? Nada. 

Dean and Bobby rolled back into camp at well past one in the morning with no more information than when they’d left, except that whoever was responsible, he wasn’t staying in one of the obvious places around the lake.

Rufus and Anna were waiting for them by the main office. “Got some bad news,” Rufus started out. “Remember that wind storm a couple days ago?”

Dean nodded.

“Well turns out it took down a tree, which knocked out several of those wards, as well as a devil’s trap. So could be lots of things getting in here.”

Dean spotted Sam out of the corner of his eye, running down the hill from the Crossroads cabin in his pajamas, his bare feet slipping on the dewy grass.

“What are you doing Sam?”

“I saw the headlights. Did Castiel go with you guys?”

“What? No. He’s supposed to be back with you. You haven’t had an adult with you all night?”

Sam shook his head. “He never came back. We figured he was with you. But we’ve been taking shifts keeping a lookout for anything strange.”

“What happened to Castiel?” Dean asked, despite how obviously no one would know the answer. “Where’s Cas?” He surprised himself with how panicked he felt. Ben disappearing was terrible, but that kid could handle himself.

Castiel was different. He was stronger and more capable than Ben, Dean knew on principle, but at the same time the stupid guy made weird choices. And he didn’t always actually know he was stronger than most things, since he’d lost so much of his strength since becoming human.

“Let’s get inside, everyone,” said Bobby. “We’ll talk more when we’re less exposed.”

* * * *

It was almost two in the morning, but obviously no one was getting any sleep. The entire camp was crowded into the library, several of the older campers scouring over the Camp Chipmunk information again, while everyone else just waited to hear what else was going on.

“Cas getting grabbed breaks the pattern,” Dean pointed out. “Whatever it is, it isn’t just taking kids. It’s probably just taking whoever’s an easy target at the moment. Whoever’s alone and out in the open.”

“Our wards were up around the camp up until two days ago,” said Anna. “And until then, nothing happened to us. Whatever it was stayed over at Camp Chipmunk. Now that we’re open to attack, our people are going missing.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “I don’t think it’s a _who_ anymore Bobby. We have to assume that it’s a thing, at this point.”

“I think it’s a Wendigo,” said Sam, seriously. At least half the room burst out laughing.

“Sam, just because the camp is called Camp Wendigo, doesn’t mean that we’re getting attacked by an actual Wendigo,” said Gwen, like she was talking to a very small child.

“It’s not just because of the name of the camp,” Sam said, staring her down. “It’s the speed with which the kids across the lake disappeared. Something that can move fast, _very_ fast, had to have taken them. And get this… There was a series of bear maulings about fifty miles from here. That was seventeen years ago. That same year? Five missing persons cases that went unsolved.”

“Fifty miles from here,” said Jo. “You think it moved?”

“There’s a housing development there now.” 

“When did you find all this out, Sam?” asked Bobby.

“Back a few days ago, when I asked you why you named the place Camp Wendigo. I could tell you were all gonna laugh me outta the room, so I figured I wouldn’t bother. Until now. Now, with the wards gone and everything…”

“Well,” said Jo, “At least we’ve all got a lot of practice taking one of these fuckers out, right?”

Everyone looked around solemnly, contemplating their own mortality. “Right. If you want to pretend like shooting my dad with a specific color of paintball, then sending up a flare, then managing to hit him again with another paintball, is the same thing that’s going to kill an actual Wendigo, good luck,” said Dean.

He looked over at Sammy. Little Sammy, who could follow a pattern better than Dean could, and had taken out their dad the Wendigo for two years running. But this was different. 

“Okay, everyone. I know we’re wired and no one’s going to be able to sleep,” said Bobby, “But no one, _no one,_ is to go out after dark. No one goes anywhere alone, even in daylight. Everyone under the age of sixteen is indoors tomorrow. I don’t care if it’s the worst summer ever for you, tomorrow is a movie day. Ellen and Uriel will stay here. Everyone else, we’re gonna find those kids. But tomorrow.”

“So we’re just gonna sit here?” balked Gwen.

“Never said you couldn’t start movie day early,” said Bobby. “Do whatever you want, but _stay indoors,_ ” He poked her in the chest to make his point. “Get some rest Gwen. We’re going Wendigo hunting.”

Gwen held her arms out in question. “I’m fifteen.”

* * * *

Bobby split the camp into teams. “Stay with your team,” he reminded, giving Rufus an especially stern look, then passed out walkie talkies. “We’re on channel two.”

It could be safely assumed that the Wendigo was staying outside the camp, so no time was going to be wasted by staying within the confines of Camp Wendigo. Dean and Jo were a team, and were headed west, in the direction of the downed tree that had taken out the wards.

Meanwhile Anna and Ash had gone with Bobby, and Gwen had gone with Rufus. She pointed out again that she was only fifteen, to which Bobby said, “Sixteen is an arbitrary line, but it’s mostly relevant. I’m bringing people who are smart and capable. End of story.”

Ronald, who actually was sixteen, was stuck staying behind. “Worst. Wendigo hunt. Ever,” he complained.

The sun was just barely rising over the lake, but it was light enough, and they set off.

“So,” said Jo, as she and Dean walked down the main path toward the edge of camp. “How’s things with you can Cas?”

“You mean the Cas who’s missing?” Dean frowned. They were moving quickly enough that it was just a little difficult to talk.

“Yeah, sorry. So good aside from that bit?”

Dean met her with silence.

“You know, he’s probably not dead. You know Wendigoes, how they like to play with their food.”

“You’re kind of being not awesome, Jo.”

“You really like him, huh?”

It was way too early for Dean to have this conversation, or respond appropriately. “Yes, Jo, damnit. Yes I like him. I don’t understand what he sees in me, but he sees something and it makes me feel weird, like in a good way. And he’s sweet and he cares about everyone. And he’s been taking care of Sammy all summer. And when it’s just me and him together we can both be ourselves. He doesn’t know how to judge me negatively. Of course I like him.”

“We’ll find him, Dean,” she turned to look back at him, before ducking off the trail, heading for the quickest way out of camp. “Seriously.”

“I know. And we’re gonna find Ben and those kids too.”

Jo bit her lip. “I’m worried about the other kids.”

“Ben can probably take a Wendigo out on his own,” said Dean.

“I know. The boy though, he’s been gone for awhile.”

Dean nodded but didn’t say anything. It was a grim thought. Some sweet little boy who was on his own, because like Sammy, he didn’t always get along with the rest of the kids. He was probably wandering through the woods, making the best of a lonely summer day, when the thing pulled him up into the tree by that cute mop of hair he had.

No one saw much of him at camp while he was there, and no one might ever see him again. Dean sped up his pace, angry that they hadn’t realized what it was earlier. Even when all signs had pointed to the incident not being their kind of case—it didn’t matter when people were dying.

They didn’t know exactly what they were looking for, but it could be pretty much anything. Anywhere where something could be living, and where it could store its food. Where it could store the kids and Castiel. So naturally occurring caves, a cluster of fallen trees arranged like a shelter, a deer-hunting stand that had been embellished upon. 

“Hey you guys, over here!” Rufus shouted from somewhere over the hill rise behind them.

Jo turned to yell back to him, but Dean grabbed her. “Wait. Voices over walkie, only. Remember?”

Jo’s eyes grew wide. “Right,” she whispered, and pulled her knife from her pocket. The Wendigo was following them.

“We must be getting close,” Dean whispered. “Hand me the walkie.”

Jo plopped it into his hand, and Dean took a deep breath. “This is Dean. Jo and I are about two miles west of the camp; Wendigo’s on our ass.”

Seconds later Ash’s voice crackled over, “You guys all right?”

“For now. Proceeding with caution.”

Dean didn’t want to say exactly how scared he felt. Wendigoes were strong, near perfect killers. It could sneak up on them and kill them before they even noticed. Now they were most likely closing in on its lair, and it knew it. It had the upper hand, because it knew exactly where they were.

All they had were their knives, as well as aerosol cans and lighters. Dean really felt like they were just bumbling around in the woods, waiting to get ripped apart. 

“We must be close,” Dean whispered. “So how can we be more methodical in our search?”

Jo just looked at him like, “I don’t know.” The pair moved on as silently as they could, without looking like they were scared, or moving in any special way. Every bird call, or scamper of a squirrel across the branches above them, had them on edge.

“It’s gonna know we know, if we keep jumping like this,” said Jo.

“It already knows we know. We had to call in where we were on the walkie, but I bet it heard us. Wendigo is smart, and it has inhuman senses. We’re lucky if it wasn’t listening in.”

Another squirrel rustled the leaves overhead, and instead of jumping in his skin again, Dean forced himself to look up and watch it bounce through the branches until he couldn’t see it anymore. “C’mon, let’s keep heading toward where there’s a stream over here.”

Jo nodded.

They were both slammed into the ground, heads smashing into the earth. Then it was lights out.

* * * *

Dean didn’t know how long he’d been out, but Jo was already awake and working on setting herself free from the ropes around her ankles when he came to. They were in some sort of cave, but it was more like a den. It had dirt walls and ceiling, and was almost like the Wendigo had carved it out itself. He was sitting on the dirt floor with his ankles tied together, and his arms tied behind his back and around a root system for a large tree.

It was dark, but Dean could make out that there were others in the den. “Welcome back, Dean,” Ben said in his snarkiest voice. “Need help getting free?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. How’d you get free?”

“Patience. Also the Wendigo didn’t realize he’d set me on a rock. Could feel the thing digging into my ass, and once I managed to get my legs under me, I kicked it to where I could grab it. And this isn’t very interesting.” He pulled out his knife and cut Dean free.

“How long have you been able to get out? Why are you still here?”

“I cut the girls free, and told them to hide. Back there,” he pointed to a small tunnel hidden back in the shadows. When Dean looked closely he could see two sets of eyes peering back at him. “I thought about telling them to run for it, but figured they’d be caught again quick. Decided to wait for back up. Then Castiel showed up, but clearly not on purpose.”

“Where’s Cas now?” Dean asked.

“He left. Went looking for the Wendigo.”

“He what? Like he’s going to fight the Wendigo on his own?”

“No, he’s following it. Jackie and Kyla said they never saw the other boy. We thought there might be another lair somewhere. Castiel went to see if he could find it.”

Jo shook her head, while Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, he probably did find it. When the goddamn Wendigo found him again and brought him there. Jesus Cas, how are you so stupid?”

As if on cue, a voice crackled in on the walkie talkie. “We found the Wendigo’s lair,” said Bobby. “It’s in a cellar of a house that’s fallen down into its foundations. Can’t see where it is until you get right up to it. The house is pretty much gone, but the cellar’s intact.”

“Bobby,” Jo called, “Thing’s got two lairs. Dean and I got taken.”

“What? Are you hurt?”

“No. We have Ben and the girls. No sign of the Wendigo.”

“Ask him if Cas is there,” said Dean.

Jo looked at him like she was about to tease him, but resigned. “Is Cas there? Or the other little boy?”

There was no response. 

“Shit,” said Dean. “It’s there. We can go get it before it gets back.”

Jo nodded. “You girls stay there. It’s bigger than a man and can’t fit down the tunnel. You’re safe as long as you stay hidden. C’mon, let’s go.”

“Ben,” said Dean. “You know what way Cas went. Lead the way.”

Ben nodded and carefully they dug themselves out of the den, and ran off through the trees.

* * * *

Clearly the Wendigo had no idea it was being watched, as it was simply standing in the middle of the clearing where the old house used to be, like it was contemplating its next move. It thought it had a lot of things running fine, and didn’t seem worried about hunters at all. It looked vaguely wolf-like, covered in a layer of fur that reminded Dean of a timber wolf, but it still stood in a human posture. Its legs are arms still facing in a human direction. But the Wendigo’s nose was turned into a grotesque shape, and its eyes glowed a deep orange color, like the last embers of a fire about to go out. Its teeth were the most wolf-like thing about it. They were long and vicious, and could no longer fit inside its mouth. Wolf fangs, trying to exist on a mockery of a human face.

Great, thought Dean. 

“You think we can take ‘im? I think we can take ‘im,” Claire’s voice whispered from behind him. 

Wait, what? Claire? He looked down, and she grinned up at him, putting her finger in front of her lips to shush him. Then she made to look all around the clearing.

And there they were. Everyone from the camp, hidden behind the underbrush, only visible if you were really looking for them, all of them armed with a lighter and an aerosol can of bug spray. They were looking to him, waiting for a signal.

Dean took up his lighter and thumbed the ignition for a second before nodding, and lighting it. Everyone surrounding him copied.

The Wendigo looked up, hearing the clicks of thirty lighters all at once, surrounding him in all directions. 

“GO!” Dean yelled, and ran for the Wendigo, bug spray at the ready so when he got with in several feet he stopped and sprayed.

The Wendigo was surrounded by the flames from all sides, nowhere to go, as his skin blackened in front of them. It started to lash out, but every time it did, it couldn’t get close enough, more of the fire getting in the way. 

Dean looked over and caught Sammy’s eye, nodding at him. He was proud of the kid. He’s the one who figured all this out. And he could tell Sam got that, because he smiled back at Dean, before turning back to the Wendigo and continuing to flame its ass.

Quickly, the flames began to die out from the cans, but the Wendigo still burned in front of them.

“Whoa,” said Ronald. “I don’t know how you guys pulled these effects off, but this is fantastic!”

The Wendigo continued to moan and burn. It wasn’t dead yet.

“It’s cool,” said Rufus. “I’ve got lighter fluid.” He poured out the whole container on the dying creature. “Don’t suppose anyone brought marshmallows.”

“Kinda feel bad for the poor thing,” said Krissy. “I mean, that it couldn’t die more quickly.”

“Are you kidding?” said Ben. “That thing tried to eat me.”

“And all of Camp Wendigo came together to save the day!” said Claire.

Anna looked down at her. “I think it’s safe to say, that this has officially been the best summer ever!”

“BEST SUMMER EVER!” the kids all yelled, and started hugging each other.

* * * *

Dean left the party, to go check out the cellar. Bobby was unconscious and tied up at the bottom of the ladder, but Dean could see his stomach moving. “Hey Bobby, you all right?”

No response, but Dean was certain he’d be fine. It was dark in the cellar, so Dean lit his lighter again, and peered around for any other signs of life. He rounded a corner when he saw them.

The little boy, Brandon, was in rough shape. Dean couldn’t quite tell if he was alive. Dirt streaked his face, and he was thin. Really thin. Of course he’d been missing a long time. “Hey, hey Brandon,” Dean patted his cheeks. 

His eyes opened slowly, a weak moan escaping his cracked lips. But he was alive. He’d probably have to spend a few weeks in the hospital, but he was alive. “Oh, Brandon! You stupid kid, you’re alive!” Dean grinned at him, and mussed up his hair. 

“Dean?”

The voice came from behind him, and there was Cas. His t-shirt ripped almost in half, and wearing his pajama bottoms, there was Cas. Blood smeared across his face, mixed with dirt, and weariness from not having slept in a day. He looked terrible, but he’d never looked more wonderful in all his life.

Or at least not all his life since Dean had known him. “Cas,” Dean gasped, the tightness he’d been ignoring in his chest releasing, and without even noticing he was on his feet and scooping himself around him.

“You’re alive. Everyone’s alive. Cas, you stupid asshole, how’d you even get yourself taken by a Wendigo anyway,” Dean was punching him on the shoulder. “After the entire apocalypse and you’re just gonna get yourself ki—“

Castiel shut Dean up, closing his lips over Dean’s, and humming into his mouth. “We all lived, Dean.” 

And it really was the best summer ever.

THE END.


End file.
